This Is War
by Tenebrae Erebus
Summary: Certain things can make countries band together. One of those things is war. With Russia's threat hanging over the world's head, they have no choice but to bear arms against a common enemy. Through blood, war and tears the countries learn more about each other, more about themselves and most importantly: There's always more than meets the eye. Ch1 Rewritten. Pairings told if asked.
1. An Unfortunate Notice

**EDIT _PLEASE READ_: First and foremost, this fanfiction has no intention of offending anybody in any way shape or form. I do realize that World War Three would never happen and it most DEFINITELY would not happen over the reformation of the Soviet Union. I have no racial qualms with Russians, Belarusians or Ukrainians and have no intentions of presenting them in a bad light. This is a piece of fiction made purely for entertainment and before you start reading I would like to say that I have no intentions of villanizing Russia. As much as it may seem that I am in the first chapters I intend to do the opposite and reverse the effects of fans painting Russia as an evil psychopath with no emotions and one that will gladly slaughter without thought. I would also like to point out that countries are at the mercy of their bosses and their people and I believe their thoughts and actions can be influenced by the two. Either as a separate force or a single force. In this fanfiction I warn you that you WILL see the dark sides of many countries, including America and the Italy brothers, and I am using this fic partially to help myself understand the characters more and partially to build a base for a series of fanfictions to follow that are much more light hearted than this. I will say that there will be dark themes (Obviously), mentions of past historical events that may possibly offend people and triggers that will be mentioned at the start of each chapter. And for the sake of all that is yaoi, if you're going to criticize this fic or flame it please DON'T BE ANONYMOUS. I like to talk to people in order to figure out what I'm doing wrong. It's not like I'm going to PM you and throw a bitch fit over you not liking the story. Sheesh. Anyways, I would just like to notify you of what this story contains and if you would like proof that I have no intentions of villanizing Russia I would gladly reveal the plotline. So, without further ado, I invite you to read this story.**

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America _seriously_ didn't want a war right now.

In fact, that was the last thing he wanted.

But of course the commie bastard and his sisters had to come in and ruin it for them all.

It was only about ten o'clock at night when he received the formal declaration of war and he was _not_ pleased in the least when he learned that it was from Russia. Weren't they over this already? The Cold War ended like, twenty years ago after all. Of course, the tensions were still there as proven by the constantly exchanged glares throughout UN meeting, World Summits and other events that put them i the same room. If he were to be honest, he would say that he wanted to be cool with the Russian and get this whole thing over with but he was _so damn hard to get along with_! That damn Russian was causing him so much trouble as he scrambled to get a hold of the other countries and alerted his boss, who naturally already knew about it.

"God damn it, are you fucking serious?!" America hissed as he marched through the hallways of his house. The calls that were necessary had been made and now he had even _more _work to do than what he already had. That was just wonderful. Slamming open the door to his study, America collapsed heavily into his desk chair and switched on his computer while grabbing a map and a few blank pieces of paper. Russia declared a war with anybody who opposed the expansion of his sisters and himself and after the news of his troops starting out on the Baltic's, America new damn well he couldn't just sit back and do nothing.

"Get me on the line England, France, China, Italy, Germany and Japan. Now!" America ordered through gritted teeth. He was promptly handed a cell phone which he brought to his ear and he was suddenly hit by a barrage of voices.

"What the bloody hell America?! It's three in the bloody morning you wanker, this had better be good!"

"Mon petit Amerique, what is it? You do realize it is three hours until sunrise and I need my beauty sleep~ Ohonhonhonhonhon~"

"SHUT THE HELL UP YOU BLOODY FROG!"

"Ooooh, is the black sheep of Europe tired~?"

"Why you-"

"Aiyaaaa! So you have heard to America?!"

"Heard what?!"

"Hmph. It is four in ze morning. I zhink I vill assume zhat zhis is something important."

"Konnichiwa. Japan speaking."

"Hmmm... Veeeeeeeeee~ I'm sleepy... What time is it?"

"VAKE UP ITALY ZHIS IS IMPORTANT!"

"Yes commander Germany!"

"Well America?! Tell me what the hell you disturbed my sleep for!"

"Aiyaa! Russia expanding! He declare war on anybody who stand in his way!" China yelled through the phone.

"NO WAY IN BLOODY HELL DID THE BASTARD DO THAT!" England was certainly wide awake.

"Oh mon dieu. I must be taking care of this immediately." The sound of rustling covers signaled that France was getting out of bed to start getting dressed despite it being four in the morning.

"Hai, I was informed of this. I am very grad that you took the time to call and inform me nevertheress."

"VE?! GERMANY HELP MEEEEE! I DON'T WANT RUSSIA TO SEIZE MY VITAL REGIONS!"

"Was? How was I not informed of this?" Germany practically growled through the phone.

"Well, I just heard about ten minutes ago so don't ask me." America responded.

"Bloody hell! This just keeps getting better doesn't it?!"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" Germany roared. Around the world nations held phones away from their ears, whether in the dead of night, the early rays of morning or the broad rays of the afternoon in an attempt to avoid the destruction of their eardrums.

"It is necessary that ve discuss zhis immediately and promptly. Ve vill arrange for a meeting sometime soon vith vhichever other countries ve can get a hold of."

"Dude! We can have the meeting at my place the day after tomorrow! Fly in tomorrow, have a meeting at the UN building and then fly everybody in the day after!" America decided. "Yup! That's what we're doing!" America confirmed.

"Fine. But you'd better take this seriously or else I swear to god I will wring your neck."

"Oh, mon petit Angleterre, I wouldn't have it any other way."

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**AN: Yes, I rewrote the first chapter because the original one was crappy AF. For all new readers, thank you for reading and I hope you give this story a chance. Chapters are usually about double/triple the length of this if not more so really short chapters isn't really something big to worry about. Ummm... Follow, favorite and review please!**

**HASTA LA PASTA~!**


	2. Calling All the Countries

Germany stood next to the United Nations building with a very sleepy Italian, waiting for the others to show up. Japan had already arrived and was silently standing next to him, waiting for the Allies to come. All three of them had their luggage in tow, as they were going to be heading to Washington, D.C. later on after all of the other nations.

_Leave it to them to be late. _Germany thought in slight aggravation. Since they were only going to the airport they were forced to dress casually, which Germany had a hard time with, settling on a dark blue polo shirt and a pair of slacks, though he still stuck with his combat boots. He would not take those off. Japan had worn a yellow polo and slacks as well and Italy… Well he had walked out of the hotel with his shirt inside out and a pair of jeans, which wasn't exactly surprising considering how early it was when Germany woke him up. The Italian man was sitting on the ground, head leaning against the wall, somehow managing to take a nap with all of the noise. There were suddenly running footsteps and America pushed through the throng of bustling people on the sidewalks, reaching them with his signature grin plastered on his face and towing along and aggravated Brit and pissed of Frenchman.

"Hey guys! Sorry we're late, Arthur and Francis got into another fight and it was too funny to stop!" America chuckled easily reverting to their human names.

"Konichiwa Alfred-kun, Arthur-kun, Francis-kun." Japan greeted his friends bowing slightly.

"Man, I told you, no need to be so formal!" America boomed casually throwing an arm around Japan's shoulder. Japan flinched and gently pushed America's arm off, giving him a slightly apologetic look. America just grinned even wider and waved him off as if saying 'No problem'.

"A-Alfred! I-I f-found you!" A small voice called weakly. It could barely be heard over the hustle and bustle of the New York City streets but it was there nonetheless. America turned in the direction of the voice to see his brother, clutching Kumajirou for dear life and running to join him and the others.

"Oh hey Matthew! I was wondering where you went!" America called to his brother waving him over. Matthew heaved a sigh and walked over to the group tiredly.

"Y-you left me at McDonald's. I had to take a cab here." Canada sighed dejectedly. Alfred gave a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his neck, looking over at his brother apologetically, a small smile visible in his blue eyes.

"Err, sorry about that bro. We were kinda in a rush and just ran out…" America chuckled lightly. Canada sighed, a sound mixed with annoyance and amusement but sat down next to Italy anyways.

"AIYAAAAA!" They heard. Italy jumped up and was getting ready to run but was stopped by Germany grabbing him by the back of the shirt and forcing him to keep standing. A very angry looking China charged at them from the sidewalk, stopping right in front of them. His face was flushed bright red and the small Asian man looked like he had run a marathon and he jabbed an accusing finger at America.

"I had to run here because your taxis wouldn't stop! America, why can't you have more efficient transportation aru?" The Chinese man ranted angrily. America laughed but stopped as China pulled out his wok, giving him a dangerous glare and America raised his hands.

"Whoa dude, it's not my fault you don't know how to hail a cab in NYC! Besides, you could've just taken the subway!" America pointed out. China gave him a sour look before returning his wok back to its place on his back and crossing his arms.

"Next time you show me how to hail cab aru." China huffed in exasperation. America flashed his million watt smile and gave him two thumbs up before motioning for Italy and Canada to get up.

"Speaking of the subways, we've gotta get going. The A-Line comes in about fifteen minutes at the nearest stop, so we kinda need to hurry." America told them turning on his heel. Italy clung to Germany in the throng of people as they wove through the crowd and to the nearest subway stop. As they descended the stairs the first thing that the other countries noticed was the smell. The overpowering smell of urine hit them like a tank and Italy gagged profusely at the smell. It took all they had not to follow his example and America gave them an apologetic look over his shoulder as he swiped his card to let them all through.

"Sorry about that. The subways are a bit rough, what with so many people coming and going all the time." He explained bashfully. They made their way to their platform and just as they reached it the train pulled up and the doors opened. They joined the crowd of people that flowed onto the train, many of them carrying suitcases and luggage.

"Ve~ Why are there so many suitcases Alfred? Where are they all going?" Italy asked eyeing the passengers curiously.

"This next stop is the closest stop to the airport, where everybody is flying in. So naturally, people would be flying out to. The subways are convenient like that." America shrugged seemingly pulling a burger out of thin air and taking a bite out of it. They stayed on the subway for a few stops, people coming and going in a constant flow of bustling people bodies. The buzz of the subway station was comparative to a beehive, even when nobody spoke a constant hum of outside voices and electricity was always present in the air. They followed the rush of people off of the train and back up into the polluted New York air. Nevertheless they were grateful to be rid of the humid, heated air of the subways and France inhaled the air gratefully.

"Mon Dieu! Zhat place was _horrible_ Alfred!" France sighed in disgust casting a glare to the hole that they ascended out of. America shrugged and grinned, taking another bite of his burger.

"Eh, it's New York dude! Anyways, it's nowhere _near _as bad as in London. _God-_" He received a smack from a very angry Englishman who jabbed a finger in his face and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, earning a few stares from the people around them.

"Don't you _dare _insult London you bloody wanker or I swear to _God _I will make sure that you never see the light of day again." England growled. America raised his hands in an 'I'm innocent' gesture and gazed at England with wide eyes.

"Okay, okay, sorry dude. Calm down. Seriously. And uh, Roderich, Elizabeta, Gilbert, Basch and Lilli are going to be here soon, they're probably going through customs right now." America grinned looking at the watch on his right wrist.

"How are they all coming in on the same plane?" Japan asked speeding up to walk next to Alfred. Alfred looked down at him and grinned.

"Since Austria and Hungary live together, Prussia was visiting and the flight had a layover in Switzerland it was a lot more convenient than you think. I _did _book it all for them." America chortled leading them into the airport. They walked into the arrivals section and Alfred leaned against a wall close to the baggage claim, unwrapping another burger and shoving into his mouth while the others found themselves sitting on a few benches beside the American.

"Tell me Alfred, who is flying in aru?" China asked, toying with the edge of his red polo. America looked down at the man and swallowed before starting to tick off the list of countries.

"Well…Roderich, Elizabeta, Gilbert, Heracles, Matthias, Berwald, Tino,Emil, Lukas, Feliks, Torys, Basch, Lilli, Eduard, Raivis, Sadik, Lovino, Antonio, Im Yong Soo, Kasem, Lien and Kyle I think are the only ones coming. The others were too preoccupied with their jobs." America said counting the list of countries off on his fingers. As if on cue there was an exclamation of pain and from the escalator came an annoyed Austrian, a pained Prussian and an angry Hungarian. Germany immediately stood up to save his brother from the wrath of Hungary's frying pan as the three walked over to join them. Hungary was now dragging Prussia by his ear, earning a few looks from the surrounding people. When Prussia saw his younger brother he grinned like a fool and pulled out of Hungary's grip.

"Oi! Bruder!" He called. Germany sighed, crossing his arms over his broad chest as his older brother ran from Hungary to join him and say hi to a very excited France.

"Honhonhon, bonjour Gilbert!" France called to a fellow member of the Bad Touch Trio. Gilbert gave a thumbs up and an 'awesome' grin at his friend, slipping away from Hungary to start up a conversation with France. Hungary merely shot daggers with her eyes in the Prussians direction before sitting down next to Austria who was busy composing some music in a notebook. A few minutes later Lichtenstein and Basch joined them and Basch gripped his sister's hand tightly, sending France glares the longer they waited, even dragging her along to get their luggage. As the hours slid by others started to show up. The Nordics popped up about two hours later at around eleven, Denmark slightly drunk from the alcohol that he had on the plane and was being supported by an emotionless Norway, followed by an irritated Iceland and a stoic looking Swede with a small Finnish man clinging tightly to his arm. Denmark had passed out on one of the bench's a few minutes later and nobody bothered waking him up as Sweden and Norway went to retrieve their baggage.

After an hour Greece, Turkey, Poland and the Baltics showed up. Apparently there was a flight from Lithuania that had a layover in Greece that then flew directly to the United States. After a good three hours, during which people split up in search of food, Spain and Romano came next, Romano screaming at Spain to 'STOP HUGGING ME FUCKING TOMATO BASTARD!' which earned for the ears of a lot of children to be covered. After three hours or so Korea, Thailand and Vietnam flew in, Thailand hurriedly heading to get his beloved elephant and Korea talking about some new video game that just came out with America. They waited another good hour or so and by then it was around seven o'clock at night at which time Alfred checked his watch and grinned.

"The plain to D.C. leaves in two hours, so we'd better drop our luggage and get something to eat." The American said.

"Verdammt Alfred, how much more time are we going to spend on these planes?" Switzerland asked the American in annoyance. Alfred snorted.

"Chill out dude it's only another hour and a half, as soon as we get there we'll head to the White House, have a quick meeting, get some sleep and have another meeting in the morning! Don't worry about it bro!" America stated carelessly starting to head towards arrivals. The others hustled after him as those who recently flew in already had their tickets and the G8 members went to get their baggage tags. They dropped off their bags and made it through security without a hitch, heading to their terminal with a good fifteen minutes to spare.

"Well what do you know, Alfred isn't _late _for something." England snickered taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever!" Alfred retorted crashing down onto the chair next to him. England huffed and gave him a sideways glare that the American returned with a goofy smile, slurping at one of the sodas he had bought from the McDonald's, shoving the bag of food into his backpack and leaning back into his chair, pulling out his phone to play some game. Prussia, France and Spain were sitting together; laughing and joking as they dared each other to walk up to random people and do their best to flirt with them. Germany sat next to Italy who was chattering happily to him while Romano sat next to his brother, glaring at Germany with hatred and mumbling under his breath about how the potato bastard needed to stay away from his brother. Denmark had finally woken up and was talking to an uninterested Norway while Sweden sat stoically, listening to his 'wife' talk about an issue that he ran into a while ago with Belarus. Greece and Japan were having a quiet conversation, Japan attempting to reason with him about how he wasn't a cat and Greece arguing back dreamily. Korea, China, Vietnam and Thailand were talking about the threat to the Asian countries. Austria sat, composing his music with Hungary sitting next to him, watching Prussia walk up to some random girl at one of the other terminals to try and flirt. She looked slightly angry at this but didn't seem to do anything about it, instead watching intently as he sat down next to her and chatted easily, earning a laugh and a smile. He said something and her cheeks flushed as she giggled into her hand. Their flight was called and Prussia cast the woman a final smile as he returned to his friends, flashing a thumbs up that earned him high fives as they boarded the plane.

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**Heh. I decided to update early. Prussia is a terrible flirt XD. I'm sorry if it's slow right now, it won't start to get really interesting until around chapter five. _Hint hint. _Anyways, I'd like to thank:**

**tapion580- Favoriting, reviewing and following  
AnimeLover2013-17- Following and favoriting  
HP Girl 28- Following**

**Anyways, I'd like to mention that there _will_ obviously be pairings in here (Eventually) and if you want to know then review or PM me and ask. I'm not gonna spoil it for everyone. And I know I said I would update on either Saturday or Wednesday but couldn't wait so I updated today. Plus, I already have up to chapter five written. R&R is always appreciated. ^-^**

**Hasta La Pasta!**


	3. Flashback

The plane ride was anything but fun of course. It was an hour and a half of a crying baby who refused to go to sleep, snoring people and loud toddlers. It was bad enough to give anybody a headache. England groaned massaging his temples as the noise hit him. They still had half an hour to go, and _everybody _on that plane was dying for the flight to end. He couldn't _believe _Russia was going to try and pull this off. Actually, never mind. He could _definitely_ believe that Russia was trying to pull this off and there was a high chance of him succeeding. He shuddered at the thought of the world under Russia's rule. It was a living nightmare, one that seemed very possible at the moment and a possibility that he refused to think about.

_There's no way. He's fighting the entire _world _damn it! He won't even get through Europe, let alone reach me or America. _He reassured himself firmly. He heaved a sigh and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Dude. Artie. Calm down bro. The world's not ending _yet_." America chuckled patting the Briton's back. England sat up and glared at the larger country vehemently, a low growl starting to emit from his throat.

"Ivan is planning an attack and you're telling me to _calm down?" _He hissed. "Alfred you must not realize the severity of this. After you invented the atomic bomb wartime has become _a lot more dangerous_. You proved that when you dropped them on Hiroshima and Nagasaki." The American looked taken aback by this statement and England realized how low he had hit by saying that. America absolutely _detested _the fact that he had created the atomic bomb, let alone the fact that he dropped it on who was now one of his closest friends. America scowled at England after a moment, something that England did not think was possible before his face returned to normal and he raised an eyebrow, putting his hands up.

"Whoa dude chill! I just told you to relax, no need to be so pissy!" He chortled. England sent another glare in his direction before continuing to dwell in his thoughts.

Meanwhile, a few rows back, the Bad Touch Trio was being obnoxious yet again as France kept hitting on one of the flight attendants while Prussia and Spain just sat there laughing their asses off. The distinct 'Kesesesese~' and 'Fusososososo~' was heard throughout the plane and it took all Germany had not to die of embarrassment from being related to Prussia. Italy was napping next to Germany, his head on the bigger man's shoulder, causing Germany to blush and stare awkwardly at the seat in front of him while Romano repeatedly kicked his seat, muttering things like 'Damn potato bastard' and 'Get the fuck away from my brother'. Germany paid no mind to it and ignored the Italian's insults as he always did, finding himself with his nose in one of his manuals. He really wasn't paying much attention as to what it was on, he just needed a distraction, something to preoccupy his mind, reeling with battle plans and strategies, soldier counts and weapon inventory.

What weapons were at Russia's disposal? What weapons were at _their _disposal? Who was Russia most likely to attack first? From what sides? How would the world economy react to the sudden war? What was the soldier count? How many military casualties to be expected? Civilian casualties? Which nations would crumble? Whose cities would burn at Russia's mercy? A question started to dig its way from the back of his mind, pushing through his other thoughts forcefully as he continued to try and drown it out, not wanting to think about it. His grip on the manual tightened and he wasn't even attempting to read it anymore, more so staring at the page filled with typed words in front of him and trying to concentrate on not letting himself ask the question. If he asked, he was practically admitting defeat. Surrendering. He refused. He would _never_. Especially not to Russia. Eventually, the thought found a weak spot in his willpower and burst into his forethoughts, invading everything else and blocking out everything around him. _When they lost, how much would they lose until Russia beat them into the ground?_ It wasn't the question itself that disturbed him. It was the _when_ at the beginning of the sentence. That's what disturbed him.

He bit his tongue hard and the coppery taste of blood seeped into his mouth. Not that he paid much mind to it. Until the flashbacks hit him. With the taste of blood came flashes of memories from World War II. Berlin being destroyed around him as he lay under the remains of a collapsed building, struggling for breath, broken pieces of stone pinning his body underneath the suffocating darkness that was the rubble. He distinctly remembered the taste of blood in his mouth, sharp and metallic as he coughed it up and it stained his lips and leaked from his mouth. He remembered at some point nearly choking on it before coughing yet again, clearing his throat of the thick, red fluid, instead leaving it to splatter on the stones above him and dribble past his paling lips. Even under the unforgiving rocks he could hear the wails of his people and each one licked at his body like flames. Of course, that wouldn't be a surprising feeling, half of his capital was burning to the ground, smoldering at the mercy of golden and red tongues that licked at the buildings of _his _city. A bomb went off somewhere, shaking the ground with a deafening sound that left his ears ringing and left his head feeling like somebody had plunged a knife through it and twisted it as much as possible. He gasped for breath, his oxygen supply slowly running out under his stone cage. As if on cue he heard frantic screaming and scrambling atop the rubble. But it wasn't one of his people. It was somebody else.

"Germany! Germany where are you?!" The voice wailed. It was all too familiar and his breath hitched as he realized who it was.

"Ita-ly." He managed. Suddenly, the rocks above him began to shift and soon a hole opened up, revealing a sky red as blood.

"Germany!" His friend cried. More rocks were moved and the German wondered where the little Italian got the sudden strength before realizing that Italy was kneeling next to him, grasping his hand firmly. Now that the debris had been cleared he could see his city. Or what remained of it at least. Bodies littered the streets and people ran about frantically in search of safety from the invading troops. Fire stretched greedily towards the sky, feeding off of his buildings hungrily. He swore they mocked him, devouring him and his people's hard work so _easily_. As if it meant _nothing_. Nothing at all. Shadows danced on the edge of his vision. The air tasted of gunpowder, ash and smoke. Heat pressed against his skin in waves that rolled off of the bombs and the fires. The smell of blood teased his nose. But above all, what terrified him the most was the sky. The sky was painted with the spilt blood of the people. His people. His sight faded fast, darkness taking over his vision. After a moment, he couldn't feel Italy's hand wrapped tightly in his and soon the taste of ash and gunpowder and smoke faded, followed by the smell of blood. He wanted to sleep. _God_, he wanted to sleep so badly. A nap wouldn't hurt. Right?

"Ludwig." A voice murmured.

"Ludwig." This voice was more urgent, as if it was Italy calling to him when he was in need.

"Ludwig!" The voice came again. It snapped him from his trance like state and his mind returned to the present. He noticed Italy and his brother gazing at him worriedly and he looked up at them expectantly.

"Bruder are you okay?" Prussia asked watching his younger sibling, concern flickering in his eyes.

"J-ja. I am fine." Germany responded. He quickly swiped his manual off the floor of the plane, only to realize that there was something sticky and warm starting to run down his hand. He was shocked to find that blood leaked from crescent shaped cuts in his palm, matching his fingernails perfectly. Italy noticed and gasped grabbing his hand.

"Ludwig you're bleeding!" He stated in awe. Germany sighed and took his hand back, not evening to bother examining the wound.

"It is nothing." The German quickly assured his Italian friend.

"Vest, as ze awesome me I can tell zhat zhat vas definitely not nozhing." Prussia pointed out. Germany sent his brother the 'We'll talk about this later' look before quickly changing the subject.

"How much longer is ze flight?" He asked quickly avoiding Italy's wide, amber gaze.

"Ve~ That's what we were trying to tell you about! We will be landing soon!" Italy squeaked excitedly seeming to have completely forgotten the previous occurrence. Germany blinked in surprise but nothing more. Had he really spaced out for an entire half an hour? He cleared his mind, not wanting to think about war time, past, present or future and quickly buckled his seatbelt, leaning back into his chair and tilting his head back to stare at the white airplane ceiling. He hoped to God that this war wasn't going to be as bloody as World War II was, but with the current weapons that they possessed and the fact that Russia was their opponent Germany's prayers would more than likely go unanswered. When they touched down and they had the right away to start grabbing their carry-on bags he did so and exited the airplane, keeping up with America and England who were ahead of them. Germany was followed closely by the other countries and they waited for everybody to cluster together before they walked out into the terminal.

The sight that greeted them was definitely unexpected. Three men and a woman stood tall and proud, each wearing a different United States Military uniform to represent four branches of the military. The only woman of the group of four was dressed in a United States Air Force Uniform. She was short and pretty with brown hair cut onto a bob and tanned skin, possibly of Latino descent. One of the three males was a tall and muscular African-American, wearing the uniform of the Marine Corps, broad chest displaying his badges and medals proudly. The man in the Navy uniform was average height with a lean, powerful figure, pale skinned and black haired. The man dressed in the Army uniform was slightly taller than the man who bore the Navy insignia, though otherwise their features were very similar. All four stood facing them standing with military discipline. America seemed shocked at first but he quickly composed himself, putting on a poker face and motioning for the others to stay with him as he made his way to the four. All of them gave the American a snappy salute when he stood firmly in front of him and he replied with one in return.

"Lieutenant General Garcia, General Thompson, Colonel Jefferson, Vice Admiral Andersen. What do I owe the pleasure of having you here?" America asked. His voice was unnaturally cool and calm, something that was very un-America-ish.

"Mr. Jones sir, the president has requested that we inform you of the latest occurrence in the war against the Russian Federation and that you report to the White House immediately." The girl informed him in a monotone. America crossed his arms and nodded slightly.

"Alright. And what might the latest occurrence be?" America asked raising an eyebrow. The tall man from the Marines eyes darted over the group following behind him.

"Sir, we have been ordered to discuss this with _you. _I'm afraid that-" The man was cut off by a venomous glare from America, causing him to immediately shut his mouth.

"I am escorting these people to the White House to discuss the exact same thing General, now tell me, what is the latest occurrence?" America asked sternly narrowing his eyes.

"Sir, we are on direct orders from the president-"

"I do not _care _what the president said. Tell me what the latest occurrence is right now and _that is an order_." America barked. All four of them flinched and the countries were taken aback by the sudden change in personality.

"Our sincere apologies sir. On behalf of the president, we are to inform you that from internal sources we have discovered that the Russian Federation is preparing for an invasion on Eastern Europe, more specifically the Baltic countries, within the next month. All other details are enclosed within this folder." The man from the Navy stated holding out a folder. Alfred took it, nodding his thanks to the man before tucking it into the inside of his bomber jacket.

"I trust that you are aware of the contents of this folder?" America asked looking at the four in turn.

"No sir. Only you and the president himself have been allowed access to those documents until further notice." America nodded and smiled at the four soldiers in front of him.

"I am very grateful for your information. This will surely benefit us in the near future." America assured them. "You are dismissed." He said with finality. After several moments he laughed and stepped back, turning away.

"Ah yes, I forgot. _I _have to turn my back to you before you can leave. My apologies." The American mused sending the four a crooked grin. The four started to leave but one of them, the man from the Army, stopped and turned to America.

"Sir, the president has told me only one thing about those files. Apparently, along with intelligence on the Russian Federation, that file contains an overall estimate on the war, money wise, casualty wise and the believed effect it will have on the economy. And there is also a document in there that the president asks you to sign concerning project Omega Seven." He explained softly. America's jaw nearly dropped as he hard those words but he quickly recollected himself and nodded, his composure regained.

"I see. Thank you for the information Colonel." America said smoothly. The man nodded before turning away again before America called out to him, causing him to turn around.

"Yes sir?" He asked walking a few paces closer. Alfred smiled.

"Please, call me Alfred. I find it preferable to 'sir' or 'Mr. Jones'. It makes me sound old like Artie over here."

"SHUT UP YOU BLOODY ARSE!"

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**A/N: Did ya like my attempt at angst? Yes? No? Anyways, review please! Pretty please? Pretty please with your OTP on top? Anyways, seriously. Review. by the way... Thank you to:**

**RomanoLindsey: Thanks a bunches for the review, follow and favorite! I'm glad I managed to keep them in character. ^-^**

**and to tapion580: Thanks for the follow, favorite and review ^-^**

**Otherwise, thank you to anybody who has alerted and/or favorited this story. Ciao for now!**


	4. Let the Games Begin

**This is a really slow chapter guys. Sorry, but I need a filler for what's to come. Next chapter will be an interesting one, that's for sure and after that things will only start to get more exciting. So... ONWARD TO THE STORY!**

The airport was loud, bright and busy, even at eleven thirty at night. Business men rushed past, talking on their Bluetooth's rapidly to probable clients or bosses. The mob of people pushed against us like a current as we forced our way through. The faster we got to the White House the better. It was almost midnight and Switzerland had taken to carrying Lichtenstein, the little girl having fallen asleep on the plane. Italy was staggering along, gripping onto Germany's arm complaining about how tired he was only to have Germany bark at him about how he should have slept on the plane. We were busy forcing our way past more people, the baggage claim in sight when China spoke. I think he might have said it a few times before I heard him but hey, it was loud, what could I do?

"Alfred, what was that aru?" China asked. I looked over my shoulder at him as we made our way to the baggage claim, a grin slapped on my face as usual. That little bout of military uniformity that I had was just a taste of what they'd get when they saw me commanding.

"What was what?" I asked feigning innocent. England shook his head as we reached the baggage claim, watching the bags closely in search of his.

"Bloody hell Alfred, you know exactly what he means by _that_." He huffed handing Italy his bag and snagging his as it passed him by.

"Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about! Are you going crazy old man?" I laughed lugging my luggage off the belt. Britain glared at me and scowled. Why the hell was he so _grumpy _all the damn time?

"We're talking about this later." He sniffed. His green eyes bore into my blue ones and I smirked, waving him off and turning away. As much as I hated to admit it but it felt like that guy could _see into my soul! _It was so damn creepy!

"Whatever man." I managed to chuckle waving him off. We managed to nab a few carts and load them with our luggage before heading out to the arrivals. I already had my phone out, ready to call a few cabs but I immediately put it away when I saw nine sleek black SUV's parked in uniform order on the curb.

"Well Alfred, it's been a while." Somebody says from behind me. I whip around drawing my gun, the barrel digging into the persons white shirt that he wore under the professional black business suit. The person laughed and put his hands up. "Watch the suit Alfred." He commented.

"Who the hell- Holy shit, Martin?" I gasped shoving my gun back into its holster. Martin grinned crookedly and I fist pumped, tackling him into a hug. He had grown taller than me, but I guess that was to be expected when you haven't seen somebody since they were eighteen which was _almost _a decade ago. Damn, it _had _been a long time.

"Yep. It's been too long." He mused. I pulled away, a crooked grin having found its way onto my face as I looked him over. He had grown, passing my height by a few inches but his hair was black and messy as always and his blue eyes sparked mischievously, a small smirk forming.

"Hell yeah! Holy shit dude! Last time I saw you, you were eighteen!" I exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, in those ten years I've become head of the Secret Service _and _gained access to some very important information _America_." He teased slightly shoving me. "I was wondering why they always sent everybody but me to deal with anything involving you. Never brought the same person twice. Learned the only reason why was because they didn't want us to realize that you wouldn't have aged past nineteen in those years." He explained. I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly, offering a half smile.

"Yeah… About that. Sorry for not telling you. Sworn to secrecy, y'know?" I managed. "Anyways, it was nice seeing you again dude, but what's up with the agency coming to pick us up? We could've just hailed a few cabs." I asked as the others followed us towards the line of vehicles.

"Well Mr. Jones, the president insists that we accompany you and your colleagues to the White House. The president also wishes to speak to you and Mr. Kirkland at arrival concerning military strategies and the, ah, _special _relationship that you maintain, as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland arrived at noon today." Martin informed me teasingly. His smirk turned into a full-fledged grin at his suggestive joke. Britain turned bright red and I heard a few snickers coming from the other countries at the mention of the political relationship. I glared at Martin jokingly and he responded with a cheeky smile, pulling his shades over his eyes and turning towards the lead car.

"Anyways, you will be riding with us this evening. Agents Matthews, Revoire, Sanchez, Moore, Connelly, Pentigiatopolis and Green have been assigned to escort you."

"Pentigia-what-alis?" Italy asked dazedly. Germany sighed and Greece looked up from the cat that he was holding in his arms.

"It's Greek." He proclaimed softly.

"Yes it is sir. I assume you are Mr. Karpusi?" One of the agents called. She stepped out of the car and walked over to us smoothly, extending her hand to Greece. "Agent Pentigiatopolis. It's my pleasure to meet the personification of my home country." She greeted him in a slightly accented voice. Greece smiled softly and took her hand, shaking it.

"Είναι ωραίο να σας γνωρίσουμε. (It's nice to meet you)" He greeted her. She smiled and nodded.

"Μπορώ να πω το ίδιο. (I can say the same)" She responded. "Now, may I have Ludwig Beilshmidt, Feliciano Vargas, Mr. Honda and Mr. Karpusi follow me?" She asked scanning the crowd.

"Oi bruder, you lucky Scheißkerl (Bastard)!" Prussia cackled. His comment was followed by his usual laughter and Germany sighed, grabbing his bag and pulling along Italy to follow Japan and Greece, who were already getting into the car.

"And I need Mr. Bonnefoy, Mr. Edelstein, Ms. Héderváry and Gilbert Beilshmidt to join me." Another man called.

"Yeah guys, get into the black SUV with darkly tinted bulletproof and sound proof windows." I called as the four made their way to another car.

"Honhonhon, what I would give for a _van _like this." France chortled. Before he knew it Hungary had smacked him over the head with her frying pan and Matthew caught him as he passed out, practically dragging him the rest of the way to the car and buckling him before returning to us.

"Mr. Køhler, Mr. Oxenstierna, Mr. Väinämöinen and Mr. Bondevik?" Another agent asked walking from around one of the cars. The four Nordics promptly followed him, Sweden never letting Finland leave his side as Denmark jumped into the front and the other jumped into the back.

"Mr. Zwingli, Ms. Zwingli, Mr. von Bock and Mr. Galante, over here please." Switzerland promptly carried Lichtenstein over to the car, buckling her in before going back to grab their bags and throw them into the trunk before sliding in next to her with Latvia on his other side and Estonia in front.

"Mr. Steilsson, Mr. Laurinaitis, Mr. Lukasiewicz and Mr. Adnan, over here if you please."

"Holla Mr. Fernández-Carriedo. Traer más Lovino Vargas, Mr. Chao and Ms. Chung por favor (Hello Mr. Fernández-Carriedo. Bring over Lovino Vargas, Mr. Chao and Ms. Chung please." Another agent asked. His shades were pushed high on his head and he gave Spain a lopsided grin before leaning back into the driver's seat. Leave it to Sanchez to get friendly with the countries.

"Mr. Wang, Mr. Im, Jack Kirkland and Mr. Williams will be with me." Another agent yelled from his car. Korea sprinted towards the car, overly large sleeves trailing behind him and China sighed, walking over with his hands folded inside of his sleeves. Canada gave me a scared look as Australia dragged him over to the car by his wrist and I replied with a smirk and a thumbs up. I didn't see his reaction since he was dragged into the car by the time I did that but I brushed it off. He's my brother, he'd live. He _had _to get some of my coolness over all this time right? That little voice almost popped up to tear down my confidence yet again but I snubbed it out like a cigarette. No. I would _not _go back to that. The Depression was bad enough and it's barely been seventy years, _especially _not at a time like this. Martin steered both England and I to the leading SUV and I jumped into the passenger seat. I didn't bother buckling up, unlike England. Stiff old man. I almost snorted at the thought but decided against it, instead deciding to chat with Martin about something or another as we pulled out of the airport, the others tailing us closely. We wound through the streets of Washington, D.C., the White House visible from almost everywhere we went, the Washington Monument towering above the city, an obelisk resting against the dark skyline that used to be spangled with stars. But that was _so many years _ago. When I stopped to think about it, it's been a long time since I've seen the stars like I used to. Millions of tiny pinpricks against the navy sky that were so far away that they might have already died and we were left with the beautiful remains that they left after death. Light that showed us a million colors at once, yet no longer existed. God I sounded poetic. Was all of England's old timey writing getting to me? I laughed at something Martin said, hoping it wasn't a question before we pulled up at the White House, the white painted sandstone reflecting the moonlight, leaving it to be bathed in an almost unearthly glow. I practically jumped out of the car and sprinted to the front door, Martin and England close behind.

"Martin, show everybody the bunker and make sure they're settled. I left a chart about whose rooms were whose on the meeting table. It shouldn't be that hard to follow. And uh, make sure that Lovino doesn't strangle Antonio okay? We kind of need the representative of Spain alive." I chuckled forcing my key into the lock.

"Can do Alfred. And good luck up there." He added with a small smile. He waved and started towards the constantly growing group of countries getting out of the cars. I twisted the key in the lock, the door swung open and I practically dragged England inside. I nodded to the guards so that they could shut off the metal detectors before we could pass through them.

"Pretty badass, huh dude? We added the north and south portico a few years after you burned the place down and now it's totally _boss_." I smirked, leading him up the staircase to the second floor. I hid a wince at the mention of him burning it down during eighteen fourteen but he certainly didn't. We came to a stop outside the oval office, where I _very_ unusually knocked and requested permission to answer. It was granted and I opened the door, letting England go in first before closing it and locking it behind me.

"America, England." My boss grunted. His gaze was locked outside the window, on what, I had no idea but I thought it was more of a I'm-trying-to-think gaze than an I'm-actually-looking-at-something gaze. I didn't question it really. I mean the man could do whatever the hell he wanted as long as he was in office.

"Yeah, sup?" I questioned leaning back against the wall. England glared at me, probably for my lack of manners and formally greeted the President and his Prime Minister, only sitting down when my boss motioned for him to.

"We were just discussing military alliances. America, how would you feel about sending a couple thousand soldiers to Europe to help fend off Russia?" My boss asked, turning to look at me. England's Prime Minister watched me with harsh eyes, as if daring me to say no and I smirked.

"'Course I wouldn't! I _am_ the hero after all!" I exclaimed happily. I felt the urge to whip out a burger but I remembered how mad the boss got when I ate in the office. Heheh.

"That's excellent. Now," The meeting was all about battle strategy and Russia's assumed battle plan, who he would most likely target first, yada, yada, yada. Stuff that we'd discuss in the meeting tomorrow with the other nations. By the time we were finished it was one in the morning and _god damn _was I tired. England looked like he was about to pass out on his feet and I practically dragged him out of there after we were dismissed.

"Bloody hell America, let go of my arm you git!" He protested as I dragged him to the side of the White House.

"No can do Artie." I snickered. I slid a different key into a lock hidden beneath a bush in the damp soil and grabbed the base of the bush, pulling up.

A yawning hole greeted us and I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, shining the light it cast down into it, revealing a ladder. I didn't even bother, I just jumped down, the sound of my feet against hard cement loud in contrast to the silent night and England followed skeptically, bushy eyebrows scrunched up. I reached up and pulled the hidden hatch down again before tracing my hand against the wall and finding a switch.

I flicked it, rendering us blind for a few moments by the bright fluorescent lights. The walls were a light shade of grey and after the first square of cement we stood on the hallway was carpeted. In reality, it was almost a replica of the UN building. Not even bothering to head to the meeting room I shoved England the key to his room and rushed into mine which was right next to his, slamming the door behind me and quickly locking it. I didn't acknowledge the fact that my luggage was already standing next to the dresser, instead heading straight for the desk. Yeah, that surprised me to. I just really, really _really _needed to know what was in that folder. Something concerning project Omega Seven? _Hell yes_. I pulled the contents of the folder out, dumping it on the desk. Thank god they were all paper clipped together or else I would've been scrambling trying to match what went with what which only meant more work for me. I had seen the estimates already, taking a quick peek at them in the car. I was too lazy to look over the economic effects right now so I set that stack of, oh I don't know, fifty something pages, aside and with itching fingers grabbed the paper concerning one of my greatest projects. I didn't care to admit how truly destructive or evil it could be, _I was the hero_ after all! Destruction and evil are things heroes _definitely_ don't do. Nope. That's what Russia was doing and _never_ would I _ever_ be like that commie bastard. I could practically hear the others screaming about how he's not communist anymore but hey, once a commie, always a commie. I laughed at my own thoughts before swiftly grabbing the paper and skimming the document, my grin widening as I saw the the signature of the President and the seal of approval from the Senate before scrawling my consent to build what could quite possibly be the greatest weapon of all time. That was a lot more satisfying than I thought it would be. I tucked the paper back into the folder and stretched. The meeting would probably be early tomorrow and it was bad enough I barely woke up on time for the ones that started _really late_. I brushed my teeth, changed and jumped into bed, pulling the covers over me and turning off the light.

_That commie bastard is going down._ Was my last thought before passing out into the darkness that was sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Alright. America has a new trick up his sleeve... That might be a good thing or a bad thing. Thanks to all who review, follow and favorite, it seriously makes my day. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, so please leave a review! (Even if it's only a few words. Still makes my day.) Well, I guess that's it. And please correct me on any of my translations, you can blame Google Translate. XD**

**Hasta la pasta!**


	5. Burn Into Submission

**WARNING: Character death**

**6 Months Later**

"Move!" The Russian soldier barked. He delivered a sharp jab in the back with his rifle to Lithuania, causing the brown haired nation to stumble forward and, because of his cuffed hands, topple to the ground. Latvia gave a surprised squeak and Estonia grimaced as Lithuania slammed his head against the ground. He didn't move for a moment or so before he attempted to scramble to his knees as little red droplets found themselves falling onto the concrete ground. Two more soldiers hauled him to his feet where he started to shakily walk at the orders of the soldiers, the other two following close behind him. His steps were shaky as he ascended the extensive stairs that lead to the sprawling palace before him. It reminded him starkly of Peterhof, Imperial Russian era architecture through and through, though the fountains that stood in front of Peterhof Palace were absent. They were replaced by many bright yellow sunflowers, their faces turned to the sun.

_General Winter will take them. I know it. _Lithuania thought to himself. He shuddered at the thought of Russia's reaction to the death of his lovely flowers and closed his eyes only momentarily to avoid tripping up the stairs. Of course, he already half way was. Many of his men were slaughtered by Russian forces. Even when the three Baltic's combined their military strength, they still stood no chance against the powerful army. They were beaten back; with each lost battle a new wound appearing on their flesh, until they finally realized how at odds they were. America hadn't managed to send troops on time and even though the entirety of Europe was supposed to 'defend themselves and each other,' nobody had offered any military assistance. They were all too busy defending their own land from a force that had yet to reach them, so wrapped up in themselves they didn't see how actions could affect them in the long term. They _might_ have been able to stop Russia at the Baltic's if they all sent troops, but now the Baltic's were under Russia's grasp and he was advancing on the rest of Europe at an alarming rate. Lithuania finally managed to stagger to the top step. Latvia and Estonia were shoved forward, bumping into Lithuania's back and almost making him fall again but he stumbled, catching himself before continuing his journey to the building.

The palace towered above them, standing a proud five stories. A balcony protruded from the fifth floor, directly above the thirty foot arched doors that were the grand entrance. The white paint reflected the sun, shining it harshly into their eyes, columns inlaid in the building ran up and down between every four windows. They could see that a segment of the East wing was different from the rest. Six two foot wide floor to ceiling arched windows were spaced six feet apart from each other. Lithuania found that he was unable to peer inside, as he was too far away, but he could only assume that it was a ballroom of sorts, or perhaps a gathering hall. The rest of the building was decorated with many windows. Most of their curtains were pulled back, exposing their respective rooms to piercing sunlight. The sound of shoes clicking against marble was the only sound besides their ragged breathing as they strode through the grand entrance. There were five tiers and if you looked straight up you could see the sky through a large glass pane. The guards shoved the three Baltic countries towards the east wing and they followed, stumbling over their own feet pathetically. Latvia looked like he was about to piss his pants and he walked almost pressed against Estonia who wore a very stoic expression. Despite his lack of emotion, fear was reflected harshly in his eyes and he kept his head down to avoid the soldiers seeing this. The hallway was lined with many doors and the Russian flag hung from the walls leaving the hall blue, red and white. They pushed through the door that stood at the end and even though none of the three wanted to admit it, the room that was revealed to them was amazing. A high ceiling was decorated with a mosaic depicting battles won by Russia and the Soviet Union up until the twentieth century, specifically World War 2 and the Cold War. Heavy velvet drapes were pulled away from the high windows that allowed shafts of light into the room. A balcony circled around the top of the room and directly across the room from the entrance, perched on a tall chair fit for royalty, was Russia. Harsh violet eyes colder than General Winter's army bore into the Baltic's as they were shoved into the room.

"Вы уволены." Russia sighed. His voice held an edge to it, something that sounded like a threat. The soldiers saluted him and promptly left the room. The door closed behind them and they locked it with an audible _click_ that seemed to ring throughout the hall ominously. Lithuania wondered if Russia could hear his heartbeat. The vessel pounded against his ribs mercilessly, almost viciously, threatening to burst from his chest.

_That would be preferable. _He thought nervously as Russia's gaze bore into him. Then again, anything would be preferable to this situation. He was facing the man who had conquered his country and probably had some despicable plan on torturing and killing him slowly.

_Hopefully it'll be fast. Bash my head in with a pipe. Slit my throat. Give me a pick axe to the head. Maybe if he's feeling merciful he'll just shoot me._ Lithuania mused to himself. His body was full out shaking now and his teeth rattled noisily. Latvia was staring at the ground wide eyed, body tense with suppressed tremors. Lithuania wouldn't have been surprised if he pissed his pants, fell to his knees and started apologizing and begging for his life in a much undignified manner. But then again, Russia might punish him for speaking out of turn. It was a lose-lose situation. Estonia and Latvia looked like they knew it too and were silent.

It was pressing down on him, he felt like he wanted to buckle under the weight of it. His chest heaved as he desperately gulped in air. When did the air get so thick? Was his heart supposed to be beating this fast? Lithuania's breathing quickened and his heartbeat was erratic and nervous.

"You have come to your senses, da?" Russia asked. His voice was cool and it sliced through the silence cleanly. So nonchalant, as if conquering three countries was something he did daily.

"Y-y-yes sir." Lithuania managed to stutter out. Russia smiled one of his sweetly dangerous smiles. It was one of his that's-right-you'd-better-be-scared smiles that made him look like he was about to violently murder you with his pipe any second.

"And you do not regret becoming one with Mother Russia?" It came out more of a statement than a question, challenging them to say that yes, they did regret it. If it was possible, Lithuania's body shook even more violently than before and he shook his head before rapidly replying, realizing his mistake.

"N-n-n-n-n-no s-s-sir." He squeaked fearfully. Latvia looked like he was trying to talk, or at least that he was about to before quickly shutting his mouth at a look from Estonia. Russia stood from his throne and, at an agonizingly slow rate, began his descent to the ground on a staircase that connected the balcony to the first floor that was pressed against the wall. His feet made no sound against the marble staircase as he practically glided down and came to stand in front of them. Latvia whimpered in fear and Russia's smile only broadened as he extended a hand and harshly pressed down on the top of Latvia's head.

"I am glad. If you did I would have to kill you." Russia hummed happily. Latvia was shaking more than ever as Russia pressed down on him and Lithuania shared a nervous glance with Estonia. Russia came down here to do something. He didn't come down here to talk to them or just to press down on Latvia's head. That would be very unlike him.

"I see." Estonia responded weakly. The tremor in his voice was noticeable, but not as pronounced as the stuttering, stammering mess Lithuania's speech had become. Russia turned his head to look at him with intense violent eyes and smiled.

"I am glad you agree. We wouldn't want a revolt, would we?" We questioned that cruel, childlike smile still on his face. Lithuania didn't like where this was going. His danger alarm was blaring at him, red light, wailing siren and all. His body tensed, anticipating something to. What exactly, he had no clue. Lithuania knew well enough that Russia was going to do something very, very bad.

The nation could never have possibly been more right in his life.

"If there was a revolt then I would have to do this."

Russia reached into his jacket.

The eyes of the Baltic States were widening exponentially in fear.

Russia raised the gun in his hand.

_Click._

_BANG!_

Estonia's limp body fell to the floor in a pool of rapidly forming blood.

Brain matter splattered on the floor behind Estonia's dead body. Russia pocketed the gun and turned to the two countries that remained alive. Both were too terrified to make a noise, eyes locked on their friend's dead body. There was deafening silence, one that couldn't possibly be broken through.

_Nonononono, god no. He couldn't have. There's no possible way. I'm dreaming. Hallucinating. Yeah, that's it. This is a dream and I'll wake up soon._ Lithuania thought frantically, eyes still fixed on Estonia's body. Slowly, ever so slowly Lithuania took a step towards the body. Then another. And one last step before falling to his knees next to it. Estonia's blond hair was dyed red and he felt the blood soak through his pants as he touched the country with shaking heads before firmly gripping his shirt. He stared at Russia, horrified and in response Russia smiled a sickeningly sweet smile before turning away and starting to climb the stairs.

"Consider that my warning to you. If you revolt, that is what will happen to you and that is what will happen to your people. That doesn't sound very fun, da? Now, look out of that window to your left." Russia insisted menacingly. Shaky and stumbling, the two remaining Baltics scrambled to one of the windows on the left side of the hall and peered outside tentatively.

A bonfire burned bright and hot on the grounds outside of the palace and two soldiers each held some sort of cloth in their hands. Latvia broke down crying when one of the men shook his out so that it was no longer folded.

The flag of Latvia hung from the man's hands and with no emotion, he lay the flag over the fire. It immediately caught and the fire licked at it greedily, blackening the red and white of it. It curled into itself, burning and burning until it was reduced to ash and crumbled in between the pieces of blackened wood. Soon the green red and yellow of Lithuania's flag replaced it and fire surged through his veins. He was too busy watching Latvia's flag burn he hadn't noticed the poor country had crumpled to the ground, wailing like a child that had taken a rather nasty fall on the playground. He only figured out why when his flag was burned and he to, crumbled. He clawed at his chest frantically, painfully in an attempt to stop the terrible feeling that had settled in his heart, tearing him apart from the inside out at an agonizingly slow rate. The searing pain lasted as long as his flag burned, a thin sheen of sweat having broken out over his skin as he groaned and grunted in pain. He wouldn't scream. For the dignity of his country he wouldn't scream. He refused to.

Russia watched from the balcony, a twisted smile on his face as a laugh pushed past his lips.

What he would do to see America like this.

* * *

**A/N: Yep. That seriously just happened. Just wait. Juuuuuust wait... Anyways, thanks to all followers, favoriters and reviewers! Means a lot to me. ^-^ And sorry for updating a day late, I unexpectedly slept over at my friends house and thus had no access to the stories. **

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNDDDDD:**

**Six reviews, fifteen follows and nine favorites?! Totally freaking out right now! I actually have more reviews than I do chapters! VIRTUAL COOKIES AND OTP'S FOR ALL! You seriously have no idea how happy I am!**

**Well, ciao for now and see you Wednesday!**


	6. Pact of Steel

"_Based off of recent reports from the European Nations, it was noted officially that as of last Tuesday, the three Baltic countries, Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, have been taken under the control of Russia. The military of all three countries surrendered last Tuesday at-" _America angrily shut off the TV that he sat in front of and closed his eyes, resting his head in his hands with an agitated sigh. His troops hadn't made it in time and now Russia had a hold on three countries in only six months. Running a hand through his hair angrily, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Russia's plan was to take over the world and his advance on Europe was faster than expected. It took him _six months_ to take down three countries. How in the hell did that happen? Seriously?

America's forces had been distributed to the surrounding nations instead, primarily to Poland and other nearby countries. They were all prepping for a battle and the extra reinforcements were definitely needed. America's thoughts transferred to the European countries. Hungary was always a feisty one, there was no way in _hell_ she would go down easily. And Germany? That guy was a resilient son of a bitch. Russia had attacked Berlin before and he still bounced back. The troops of the Germanic nations and his troops together would hold Russia back, no doubt about it. Of course, that was what he told himself. Honestly, if he had the choice he wouldn't be here. He'd be over in Europe, on the battle field. Because that's what heroes did.

The hero always won against the bad guy after all. Especially a _commie_ bad guy and an _American_ hero. It was just a rule. It was a rule that wasn't meant to be broken like all the others. America growled and glared at the piles and piles of paper that sat on his desk as if they had killed his best friend. It took all he had to not flip the table with all of its reports and contracts and walk out. He needed to relax. Yeah, that would be a good idea. He released the tension in his body with a heaved sigh and pushed himself from the desk chair, stretching and giving a great yawn. Food would do him good. He grinned at the thought.

_Mickey D's here I come. _He thought with a smirk. Grabbing his keys and making sure he had his phone he stepped out of the D.C. apartment he was staying in to be closer to the President for the continuous meetings that he was being forced to attend almost daily at this point. As he descended the stairs and held the door for one of his elderly neighbors his mind hurtled through the possible outcomes of his war. He didn't pay attention to anything as he ordered his usual at McDonald's and sat at a table in the back. He barely touched his food as he thought and it wasn't until his phone vibrated in his pocket was it that he was shaken out of his stupor. He pulled the device out of his pocket and looked at the bright screen,

_Mattie:  
Hey Alfred. I'm down in D.C. right now for a meeting with you and your President later on today. Where are you?_

The text read. He texted back with a quick reply of 'At McDonald's a few blocks away from the apartment' before returning to his state of deep thought that was very unusual for the happy country. It wasn't until Canada was shaking his shoulders and shouting (Or at least shouting for him which was speaking at a regular volume.) that his head snapped up and he was met by worried violet eyes.

"Are you okay? You haven't touched your food at all." Canada asked taking a seat next to him. Kumajirou curiously sniffed at the burger and fries but recoiled, staring at it like it was some sort of abomination before looking curiously at Canada.

"Who are you?" He asked. Canada heaved a sigh and looked at the polar bear in annoyance.

"I'm Canada. Your owner. How come you can never remember Kumachigi?" He asked sounding defeated.

"Why would my owner not remember my name?" Kumajirou asked in suspicion. Canada ignored him and looked at his brother who was now back to his usual burger eating self and leaned back against the back of the booth.

"So Alfred, about the meeting…" Canada started. America waved him off and slurped at his soda.

"Dude, why so business like? We'll talk about the meeting at the meeting man, that's what the meeting's for bro!" America snorted. Canada sighed but was secretly glad his brother wasn't in that stupefied state that he had seen him in when he walked into the restaurant.

Alfred needed to be strong in this situation. Little did the nation know it, the world was resting on his shoulders.

"Ludwig, what is our military status?" The German's boss asked walking into the man's office. Germany looked at him over the top of his glasses, turning his attention from the paperwork he was looking over to his boss.

"We're progressing well. Our first round of troops in the Heer has completed their training and the Luftwaffe has begun the training of a very promising group of fighter pilots. The Marine is still training their new troops and we have received approximately three thousand United States Army troops from the United States of America as of yesterday. They were originally intended to be sent for combat in the Baltic countries, so they are heavily equipped and well-armed. I have sent a request to the general of the Heer to tell me what he intends to do with them as soon as possible yesterday and he hasn't responded yet." Germany informed his boss, perfecting his already perfect posture. Germany's boss nodded and sighed.

"I see. I am grateful that the United States has offered to help in our country, it is quite useful to have him as an ally." His boss muttered taking a seat in the chair across from Germany. Germany sighed and set his document down.

"As useful as he is an ally, the man can be astoundingly annoying. I didn't think it was possible for somebody to talk so much." Germany admitted jokingly. His boss cracked a smile and folded his hands on the desk in front of the personification of his country.

"Well, he is the only fully acknowledged super power in the world. Russia is debatable and the entirety of the European Nations hasn't reached that point. As much as I hate to rely on him he holds the entire world in the palm of his hand." Germany's boss sighed.

"Yes, that's true. Anyways, if I may ask, what was it that you came here for?" Germany asked returning his attention to the document in front of him.

"Since the Russia has occupied the Baltic's, Poland has requested that we send military help. They say that Russia is approaching on their eastern front and that they are requesting help from all of the European Nations." His boss started. "I intended to tell you so that you could confer with the generals of the Heer, the Luftwaffe and the Marine about what we should do." Ludwig didn't look up from the proposition he was reading over and grunted in response.

"Hm. I see. Alright, I'll call a meeting sometime this week. Oh yes, and Italy and England's bosses will probably be calling you sometime soon. They want to discuss something about enforcing the plan on soldier contribution throughout Europe so that they can bring it up at the next European Nations meeting." Germany muttered, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the page.

"Alright. Well, I suppose that's it. Thank you Ludwig." And with that his boss left the room. Germany heaved a sigh, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, rubbing his forehead tiredly. This was bringing up too many memories he had hoped to keep buried from World War II. Mostly the Soviet invasion on Berlin. He had been struck by one flashback to many and in an attempt to ward off more, he squeezed his eyes shut and dug the heels of his palms into his cheek bones. He needed to focus on the matter at hand.

"Work Ludwig. You need to contact the generals to see what can be done." The German muttered to himself. He promptly picked up the phone that sat on his desk and just as he reached to dial the general of the Heer his office door flew open, accompanied by an all too familiar wailing voice.

"GERMANYYYYYYYY! GERMANY RUSSIA TOOK OVER THE BALTICS!" Italy sobbed loudly slamming the office door and throwing himself on the larger man. Germany was prepared and caught the crying Italian who promptly buried his face into the jacket of his suit and wrapped his small arms around him in an iron grip.

"Yes Italy, he did. Now vhy ze hell are you crying?" Germany asked in annoyance.

"H-he's g-getting c-c-closer! W-w-what I-if M-Ms. H-Hungary a-and Mr. A-Aust-tria c-can't s-s-stop him?! H-h-he'll c-come a-after m-m-me a-a-and th-then-" He managed before he burst into a bout of fresh tears. Germany rolled his eyes and pulled the blubbering Italian off of him so that he could look him in the eye.

"Italy. Do you remember zhat promise we made during Vorld Var Two?" His voice was firm and steady when he asked the question. Italy sniffled, wiping his nose on his forearm and nodded.

"Y-y-yes." He mumbled.

"I promised zhat I would save you vhen you got in trouble and you promised zhat you vould save me if I got in trouble. We," Germany heaved an irritated sigh. "We pinky swore. No backing out of zhat." Germany assured his friend. Italy sniffled again and shifted on his lap, causing Germany to blush even more than he already was.

"V-ve~ Th-that's right. Can you p-promise again?" Italy whimpered wiping at his eyes. Germany sighed again and smiled slightly, giving him a small nod.

"I promise."

"Do you pinky swear?" Italy asked. His eyes were open and wide like a curious child's. His eyes looked like liquid honey and Germany softened quite a bit at the the sight. He always had a soft spot for the Italian, no matter how much he would deny it to everybody else. The only one who knew was probably Prussia who wouldn't stop teasing him about it for five years after the end of World War II. As much as an asshole he could be sometimes, Prussia could keep a secret. Germany knew his brother wouldn't tell anybody, his loyalty was something that he always prided himself in.

Germany smiled softly at Italy, not his forced, tight lipped, awkward smile but a soft genuine one. He raised his right hand and extended his pinkie finger to his friend who squeaked happily and quickly wrapped the German's pinkie with his own.

"Pinky swear." Germany confirmed. Italy grinned broadly and jumped from Germany's lap, all traces of tears gone besides the tear tracts on his face.

"Ve~ I knew I could rely on Germany! Now can we get pasta?" Italy asked excitedly dancing around the office. Germany's smile widened and he looked down at the watch on his right wrist. He would have lunch break in five minutes.

"Ja, ve can get pasta. It's only five minutes until my lunch break." Germany confirmed. Italy squealed happily and flung his arms around his friend, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Ve~ Germany and I are going to eat pasta for lunch!" Italy sang bounding out of the office. Germany stared after him dumbstruck as he touched the place Italy had kissed him. A blush overtook his face and he blinked in surprise at the action before looking down and shaking his head.

That Italian was going to be the death of him.

* * *

**Heheheheheh. Hey guys. Sorry for the late update. Again. *Le sigh* I went to an amusement park with a friend yesterday and ended up staying at her house, so I didn't have access to my documents. Again. Anyways, guess what? I GET TO GO TO PAX PRIME! YAAAAAAAAAY! SKyDoesMinecraft and CaptainSparklez for the win dudes! AND OH MY GOD I'M PAST TEN REVIEWS AND I HAVE TWENTY FOLLOWS AND FOURTEEN FAVORITES. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH. Thank you so much guys. Seriously, this means a lot to me.**

**Catch Ya on the Flip Side!**


	7. A Game of Cat and Mouse Pt 1

**Two Months Later**

The mid-day sun beat down menacingly and a sly smile found its way onto Russia's face as his forces started the attack on Warsaw. He was glad that he wasn't forced to slaughter every person from each of their countries, if that had happened then he wouldn't have more expendable troops to fight with. They were just pawns in this game of war after all. Their sacrifice was certainly for a greater cause.

"Big brother, I am glad that you have finally agreed to come one with me." Belarus sang, clinging to his arm. He forced back a terrified grimace and shook her off. The only reason he absorbed his sisters was for more man power. That was it. Their military would be useful to him and so he took the opportunity while it was there. "What will we do when we find Feliks?" She purred happily.

"We will capture him and keep him under guard here in Warsaw. He'll do what the others do. Adjust to life as part of Mother Russia. Of course, he will be guarded. We wouldn't want him to escape, da?" Russia asked his sister with a sinister smile.

"That is a good idea big brother!" Belarus cackled. She soon whisked away heading off with the soldiers to do her part in attacking Warsaw. She wouldn't miss it for the world. But she would to marry her big brother.

Russia didn't bother watching her go, instead choosing to go and see the damage his troops had done. A smile twisted on his face as the ground shook under his feet and one of the tall glass buildings on the Warsaw skyline collapsed, the sound of an explosian and the sound of shattering glass filling the air. Fire licked at the sky as it burned in one of the nearby apartment complexes, giving the tennants a choice to burn to death or get shot down. A missile launched itself from one of the oncoming tanks and it exploded in a group of his soldiers, sending bodies flying through the air like rag dolls. Russia chuckled at the sight, a cold, cruel sound that made the soldiers around him give him terrified looks. Of course, they _should_ have been terrified. Absolutely terrified.

Hours passed and the sun burned in the sky settling on the horizon a burning orange that painted the sky an array of colors. It would have been a beautiful sight if it wasn't for the battle happening just below it. The angle of the light cast half the city into the shadows and sent the other half alight with light that reflected off the glass, creating a violent orange glow that shrouded the city. It would have been beautiful if not for the ravaging destruction that was taking place below it.

The city of Warsaw reverberated with screams that echoed achingly through the air, tearing from the lungs of the people who lived in the capital with a vengeance. The streets were painted red with blood, bodies from both sides -military and citizens alike- littered the ground haphazardly. The sound of gunfire was a constant, bullets slicing through the air like knives and embedding themselves into their victims mercilessly.

A woman ran from a group of Russian soldiers, an infant held close to her chest protectively as she fled through the streets. Gunshots rang from behind her but she didn't dare look back. No, she needed to keep her child safe at all costs. She rounded a corner, her heart pounding in her ears, her breathing heavy and the _click click click _of shoes against pavement. She tuned out the gunshots. The missile launches. The explosions. The screams and cries for help. She ignored it all. She just needed to _run_. Run away and keep her baby safe.

A bullet whizzed past her ear, causing her to shriek and speed up, praying to God to have mercy and save she and her child.

Her prayer went unanswered.

Another gunshot. She toppled forwards, a bullet having lodged itself in her back, though she managed to land on her side as not to crush the baby. The baby opened its tiny mouth and letting out a heart breaking wail as if it knew what was going to happen. That his time on earth would be short lived. The woman whimpered, squeezing the baby to her chest as blood pooled on the ground around here and blood formed at the corners of her lips which seemed to pale by the second. The soldiers leisurely strolled up to her and she looked up at them with pleading, heartbroken eyes.

"Please…" She pleaded in her native language. A wet cough erupted from her lips, blood staining them red. "My baby. Don't…" She wheezed. The baby's wailing rose to a crescendo and one of the men grunted in annoyance, raising his gun.

The baby was silent.

An agonized scream came from its mother as a string of curses flew towards the group of men in Polish. They did the only thing that they knew to do at the time.

A bullet splattered blood and brain matter on the ground in a matter of seconds.

A sick grin smeared across the face of one of the men as he kicked he woman's body before turning away, commanding the others to return to battle with him. They complied and walked away from the two bodies that recently joined the others.

Meanwhile, Russia leisurely strode to the Presidential Palace, where he was sure the man he wanted was hiding. The perimeter was heavily guarded, tanks on the front line and soldiers with heavy guns and equipment watching carefully and shooting down anybody that came near, Polish or Russian. Russia smiled at this and reached into his coat to firmly grasp his infamous lead pipe. He strode confidently to the front lines and guns took aim, bullets peppering him. He only lurched at the impact, the wounds closing quickly. As he stood in front of the guards he frowned, looking down at his military uniform with a frown as he twirled the edge of his scarf between his fingers.

"You ruined my favorite jacket. You should pay for this, da?" He asked. Before anybody could respond he slammed the lead pipe over one man's head, earning a satisfying cracking sound from the breaking bones. Everybody flew into panic, still choosing to fire at the large Russian in an attempt to kill him. The most they did was slow him down.

His pipe was a force of mass destruction, breaking bones and bodies mercilessly at its wielders command. Men fell to the ground limp as Russia happily tore through them, sending them to the ground like rag dolls. The tanks couldn't do much without destroying the palace and Russia quickly incapacitated their crew. He couldn't have them mass killing his soldiers when he stormed the place would he? Some of his soldiers had joined him at the palace and were slaughtering all those opposed faster than they could down a bottle of vodka, spilling more blood onto the already red stained ground. It didn't take long for the entirety of the guards on the outside to be eliminated with the extra help. Though they were sure that there would be even more guards inside, they didn't hesitate knocking the doors down and blindly firing. There was returning gunfire and several of Russia's men went down, but Russia didn't even bother to acknowledge his fallen soldiers. Instead he chose to club another guard over the head with his pipe, wielding it as a skilled swordsman would a fine sword that he had practiced with all his life. Swiftly and silently he ventured through the palace, knocking men down with his pipe when necessary and using his superior hearing to listen for the sound of people. Feliks was sure to be with the government officials at a time like this.

Russia fancied the thought of him cowering in a corner like a terrified dog as he was struck by the agony that was surely being delivered to him at the destruction of his capital and he giggled slightly. That was quite pleasant actually. He always liked the thought of others shaking in fear at his presence. A small voice at the back of his head started to whisper something but he crushed it without a second thought. That had no place in this world. Not when he was conquering as quickly as he was. Silently, he whisked around a corner and the edge of his lips turned upwards into a twisted smile. He heard them. The near inaudible murmur of voices, coming from that door…

He giggled happily again and not even bothering to see if it was unlocked or not, kicked the door in. It flew off of its hinges, the wood splintered under the heavy impact and there were several surprised screams from men and women alike.

"You are glad to see me, da?" Russia asked a broad smile plastered on his face. He hefted his pipe, by now dripping with blood and swung at the nearest person. It slammed into the side of their head and their skull crushed on impact as they collapsed to the ground motionless. The room went into mass panic mode. Ineffective guns were fired hastily, though none of the bullets even came close to the Russian as he tore through the room like a tornado, destroying everything in its path. Of course, he was much neater than a tornado, much more graceful. It was more like lightning or a viper strike the way he moved. So quick you barely had time to see it before it actually happened. He didn't notice when he had killed the President or the Prime Minister. No, they were of no importance. Just people standing in his way that refused to give up. He couldn't tell, but hysterical laughter had slipped from his lips while he did this, making him all the more terrifying. Eventually, he stood in the room with a satisfied smile, facing the window that looked out towards the front of the castle. He heard scurrying and turned around to see the edge of a heel disappear around a corner.

He was _not_ getting away that easily.

He strode out of the room and caught a glimpse of the same heel rounding a corner. He followed them, turn after turn through the winding hallways until there was a scared scream and a thud. He turned the corner to see Feliks scrambling to his feet in panic, a flurry of green and blond as he rocketed away from Russia, desperate to not be killed or worse.

Russia was struck by an idea and he gave an open mouthed smile. A menacing, toothy grin that practically screamed insanity, stretching over his face and causing purple eyes to glimmer in amused delight at this new idea. He pulled a radio from his coat and held down the button to let him be broadcasted to all soldiers in the area, which he knew at the time were many.

"Seal off all entries and exits at the Presidential Palace. I don't want anybody escaping." He lied sweetly. He released the button and the radio crackled to life in return, spewing the consent of his soldiers before it returned to its dormant state. He chuckled and swung his pipe, breaking the expensive china vase that sat on one of the nearby tables that lined the hall. He was going to have so much _fun_ with this. He leisurely strode to the intersection where Feliks had turned right and turned in the direction the nation had run.

"Let's play a game~" He called. His voice was playful, sweet, innocent, but a darkness that would give anybody chills lined his tone. "You can run away from me and I will try and find you! It is like the game that the children play! Hide and seek is it?" He giggled at the analogy before continuing. "Run Feliks~ Run very, very fast." He called. His voice echoed through the hallways and it reached the Pol, sending him into a fit of terrified sobs that Russia's skilled ears picked up easily. Russia gave an almost predatory growl at the sound of fear from the other nation. He was primal in this moment, a hunter stalking his prey. Instead he had no intentions to kill this prey. Oh no, this prey would serve a different purpose entirely. He didn't giggle this time. He chuckled, a dark, low sound that emanated from his chest and echoed ominously through the halls.

He took a step in the direction of his prey.

Let the game of cat and mouse begin.

* * *

**A/N: Hate me if you want to but Russia's going after Poland. If you want me to be honest I don't regret it. And somebody brought up that six months (Now eight) had already passed but come on, you think it'll only take a few days to take over an entire country? Two months is still impossible but I'm to eager to get to the big part to write the smaller battles. If you DO want me to write the smaller battles just PM me or say so in a review. I posted this chapter at like, seven in the morning my time BECAUSE I'm going to PAX PRIME TODAAAAAAYYYYY! Thus I updated early. Anyways, things are starting to escalate and heat up cuz shits about to go down.**

**Have any questions about future pairings just PM or ask in a review! They're always appreciated and I crave constructive criticism!**

**See You Wednesday!**


	8. A Game of Cat and Mouse Pt 2

_Thump thump thump thump. _His heart beat erratically in his chest as he wound through the seemingly endless labyrinth that was the Presidential Palace. Feliks had no idea how long he had been running, but his lungs were searing hot, from the burning of his capital or from the amount of running from that terrifying Russian he didn't know. He had watched him bash the brains out of the Prime Minister, the President and everybody on the senate as if he was a child playing a fun game. He even _laughed_. It was a hysterical sound and it was surprisingly low, though it still held such insanity and such blood lust it made Feliks want to scream and run for his life. Which he was doing.

Without the screaming at least.

He was trying to be as quiet as possible. Though he was sure the pounding of his heart and the heavy, labored breaths gave him away in exchange for his silent footsteps and lack of speech. He tried to ignore the painful stitch in his side and the ache that coursed through his body. He didn't really have to try. The adrenaline rushing through his veins was enough to dull all feeling and thought besides the need to get as far as possible from the nation that was burning his capital to the ground. He heard the shattering of a vase not far behind him and gave a terrified squeak, sounding much like a mouse. He ran faster, blond hair lashing behind him wildly.

_Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump._

His heartbeat was speeding up. A strangled gasp for breath left his lips as he sprinted up the staircase, and rounded another corner. Left. Right. Right. Straight. Left. Right. Straight. Stairs. That was his thought process as he ran. He just needed to get _away_ from that _god damned Russian_. The monster that was burning down his capital and whose soldiers were raping and killing his citizens. He felt every molten touch, every scream that tore from the throats of his people and every bullet that pierced Polish flesh. It tore at him from the inside. The pain that radiated from his chest-that he could feel in every inch of his body- would usually be enough to force him to his knees and cry, making him pray to whoever was up there to make it stop. For the sake of all that was Polish make it stop. But not this time. His mind was overridden with the primal instinct to run away from the threat. Another vase went down, and the Pol ran faster.

_Faster, faster, faster._

Meanwhile Russia leisurely trotted after him, a smile still plastered onto his face as he tipped another vase to the floor. He could practically _see_ Feliks squeaking and speeding up and he suppressed laughter at the thought. Oh, it was so much fun to toy with prey before you caught them. He didn't bother listening for the heavy breaths the subject of his little game expelled, nor the sound of footsteps, instead choosing to follow his gut, smash a vase every now and again jus to scare the little mouse.

"I can smell your fear мышка. I hope you're having fun~" Russia chimed. His voice was childish and playful, as if sincerely hoping the other was enjoying this little game. It still remained booming and powerful, easily reaching Feliks' ears. He could tell that the Russian wasn't far away, maybe only a turn or two behind him and he gave a shaky breath, slipping into one of the rooms. The door creaked as he shut it and he winced at the sound before scurrying to hide in the coat closet of the room.

Russia, having heard the creaking of a door from the hallway before him, grinned at the new game. It was like hide and go seek, wasn't it? He happily moved to the first door, twisting the knob and walking into the room. He didn't take the time to observe it, just the time to gladly destroy any and everything in the room in search of his little mouse. A sigh escaped his lungs when he came up with nothing and he gripped his pipe tighter. His little mouse was making this hard for him. That was a bad choice. He marched out of the room and to the room adjacent to it, only repeating the process. The next three rooms received the same treatment and Russia frowned slightly.

"Oh, little mouse where are you?" He asked sounding sad. He twisted another doorknob and stepped inside. He demolished everything under his gaze as he had with the other rooms, turning the room into nothing but splintered wood and unrecognizable paintings and furniture. Russia was starting to get irritated. How could the little mouse hide himself so well? More rooms went through abuse and in Feliks' closet he silently cowered, praying that Russia wouldn't come into his room any time soon. Violent thrashing came from another room room, the sound of shattering vases and splintering wood, and Feliks nearly cried out in sheer terror, fearing for his life. Now that he sat here, in this dark closet filled with coats that god knew how old, did he notice the pain. The ache in his legs was pronounced and they were starting to cramp painfully. His heart pounded against his ribcage, trying to break free of its bodily confinement with desperate force. His lungs burned, from the smoke that hung over his city from all of the burning buildings and from his running. The stitch in his side caused him to wheeze and he frowned at that.

_That is like, totally not cool. _He thought to himself in annoyance. Wheezing was _so_ not cool. Especially when the great Poland did it! He thought to himself. He almost chuckled at his own thought before reminding himself to be silent if he wanted to stay alive. Right. That was the top priority right now.

He didn't know how long he sat curled up in that closet. His knees were pulled up to his chest and he had wrapped his arms around his shins, even pulling a few coats down to warm himself. His body quaked in fear as the Russian grew closer to his room. This surely wasn't going to be pretty when Russia did find him. Feliks almost started cursing himself for cornering himself like this. How _stupid_ was he? He was not some five year old child who could not find a hiding spot!

"Oh мышка, come out, come out wherever you are~" Russia sang sweetly. This only caused a shiver to course down Feliks' spine, as the voice was relatively close by, maybe a door or two down. There were footsteps and the room next to him was completely trashed to. He felt the wall his back was pressed against vibrate with the force of something being thrown at it and held his breath, dead set on not making a sound. He couldn't give away his position. Not now, no he couldn't.

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

His heart was beating faster than ever, pounding in his throat almost painfully and it wasn't until the sharp, coppery taste of blood filled his mouth did he realize he was biting the inside of his lip. He didn't make a sound, merely releasing his lip from his teeth and continuing to stare anxiously through the darkness at the closet door.

The only light seen in that little coat closet was the light from beneath the thick, wooden door. Then the footsteps started up again and he practically stopped breathing.

He heard the doorknob of the room twist and mentally cursed himself for not locking the door. Russia would have broken it down anyways, it didn't really matter, but it would have probably bought him more time. There were things thrown and tossed around as Russia expertly disassembled everything with his pipe. His motions were fluid and smooth, flowing like water as he tore apart the room in search of the country that he was taking hold of right now. He knew that the little mouse was in here somewhere. He just _knew_ it. He scowled and paced the room, not bothering to look at the tiny coat closet. It was too obvious to hide in there. No need to look at all. Besides, if he had hidden in there he was beyond stupid. As he paced the room again he heard a whimper. It was faint, as if it had come from another room, but he was certain it came from this room. Absolutely certain. He stopped in front of the coat closet and Feliks covered his mouth to prevent any more terrified noises from coming out of his mouth. Russia's shadow was ominous against his limited source of light and he held his breath, eyes wide in the near utter darkness as he waited.

The doorknob jiggled slightly.

He buried his face in a coat, silencing a sob as he waited for the dreaded lead pipe to reign down on him and smash his head in like all the others, leaving his face unrecognizable and his head just meat, bones, teeth, eyes and brain matter pounded so hard that they were indistinguishable, just a mass of what remained of his head. He shuddered at the dark thought and peeked up from the coat. The shadow was gone. A relieved grin spread across the Pol's face and it took all he had not to whoop for joy. He was still probably nearby and there was no way he was risking something like that after he escaped death by mere millimeters.

He waited in that closet for a time. He had no means of knowing, nor did he really want to know, how much time had passed. He just wanted to sit there and make sure that damn Russian was gone, somewhere far, far away where his soldiers weren't destroying his capital and tearing it down brick by brick, shattering it pane by pane, burning it plank by plank.

On violently shaking legs and with wide eyes Poland stood up inside the closet. He took a deep breath, filled with fear and anxiety as he rested his hand on the cool brass doorknob, prepared for Russia to be standing there, splattered with blood and wielding a pipe more than likely dipped in red. A feeling of dread sat heavily in his chest, a lead ball that expanded uncomfortably as it enveloped his lungs and constricted his breathing. Feliks frantically gulped air as his hand tightened around the doorknob and a slight rattling resonated from it as a result of his shaking hand. Finally steeling his nerves, Feliks twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door, prepared for Russia to hit him over the head with a pipe. When that didn't happen he flung the door open and caught his breath at the sight of his surroundings.

It was a total wreck to say the least.

Everything was smashed into dust, splinters littered the ground and what remained of the furniture was warped and twisted and broken to such a state Feliks couldn't recognize the table for a piece of the sofa. Silently, he walked to where the curtains were, now a sheet of torn, heavy red velvet that pooled on the ground beneath the windowsill. This window showed him the skyline, a silhouette against a burning sky and something fiery and vicious called the sun. He could see and feel the fires sweeping through the city. He could hear the sound of glass shattering as shops were raided for the hell of it. He could hear every bullet fired, feel every bullet that made contact with one of his people and he could feel a part of him die every time one of them did. He could hear the missiles launching through the air, the grenades exploding violently. He imagined the sight of bodies tossed around like toys at the force of one of those explosions and winced, shaking his head. He couldn't. No. It hurt enough as it was. It hurt far too much.

He turned away from the window and cautiously picked his way over what remained of the room and peeked out of the room tentatively, looking up and down the hallway for signs of Russia. Nobody was there. He heaved a sigh of relief as he silently stepped out of the room and turned towards the end of the hall, where a giant window looked over the sky. He started walking towards it, step by step, glad that he had finally escaped Russia. He had lost him. The heavy knot in his chest uncoiled and he grinned as he inhaled deeply. He would escape to one of the nearby countries. Germany or Finland maybe. They'd probably-

There was a freezing hand on his right shoulder.

There was something just as cold and twice as heavy pressed against his neck.

"Я нашел тебя моя маленькая мышь~ Теперь присоединиться к матушке-России, da? (I found you my little mouse~ Now, join Mother Russia, da?) The voice chuckled darkly. Feliks gasped in shock and terror as Russia pressed the pipe against his neck, blocking of his windpipe mercilessly. The chill of the near frozen pipe bit into his skin, a sting that burned through his body in waves. Tears streaked his face as he clawed at his neck frantically and attempted to scream. It came out a high pitched, keening wheeze that whispered past his lips pitifully. Russia smiled at the sound and pulled on the pipe with renewed strength.

Outside the window, the last thing Feliks saw before finding himself incapacitated by Russia's pipe was the sky. It was no ordinary sky. Not the same sky that he was used to seeing. No. This sky was red. The sky was painted with the blood of his people and the sun burned brilliantly against the horizon, the flaming orange matching the fires that fed hungrily off of his city.

The sky mocked him. It mocked him gladly, forcing him to wallow in his failures and faults. Life wasn't played by his rules. It never was. It never will be. Right now, it was played by Russia's, by the enforcing pipe and heavy snow boots. Feliks started to see shadows dancing along the edge of his sight and soon they were closing in on him, swallowing him whole, enveloping him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he gasped one last time before slumping in defeat. His fading mind made an oath.

_The sky will pay. It will pay for mocking me. Nobody mocks the mighty Poland. Nobody._

* * *

**A/N: Yep. Poland has fallen into Russia's grasp. I don't know why I'm so emotionless about this. Anyways, I've got some writers block and I'm trying to get to this one point where I know I have it all on lock down but IT'S SO HARD TO GET THERE. GOSH. Anyways, some encouragement and ideas would be appreciated in the reviews. I love reviews. Speaking of reviews... WE'RE ALMOST TO TWENTY! WE'RE AT EIGHTEEN REVIEWS! OHMYGOSH I'M SO HAPPY. I may be overreacting but this is the most feedback I've ever gotten. AND my birthday is in twelve days so if I can break twenty five reviews by then I'll write a special chapter or one shot for you guys of your choice. I'll have a poll on my page if I break twenty five. Ahem, anyways, I apologize for not updating Wednesday, I'm in the middle of moving and I'm at my grandmothers house so I finally have wifi. Oh, and school started. Juggling Algebra, Cambridge Science, Honor Society, Student Body President and tutoring in seventh grade is hard. Doesn't help being the youngest in your grade either. Ugh. But then again I don't have much to complain about. Anyways, sorry for that little rant and all I really needed to say was to expect updates on only Saturday now until next summer. Well, that's it for now! See you next Saturday!**


	9. Blanket of Darkness

Russia had given them each rooms after the incident in what Lithuania (Now Torys. Russia had stripped him of his country name, declaring that it gave him too much power.) had come to call the Great Hall. If he were to be honest Lithuania would have expected for him and Latvia to be handcuffed to walls in dungeons underneath the palace but in reality it was the complete opposite. Russia's guards had escorted both trembling nations to the fifth floor and shoved them into the rooms they had been assigned. Surprisingly enough, they hadn't locked them in, but merely locked the door that held the stairs to the lower floors. Three times a day they were brought down to the dining hall for meals with Russia at the long table filled with empty chairs and they would eat, the only sound in the room being silverware clicking against their plates. Occasionally they would speak, but only when spoken to first, and they would immediately silence themselves afterwards.

The rooms themselves were quite nice. In Lithuania's room a window overlooked the palace gardens, which consisted mostly of tall, proud sunflowers and occasionally some other flowers that offered little diversity. His bed was a modest size and his sheets were warm and comfortable, though a plain tan color. The room itself was large, with a desk pressed against the wall opposite the bed with a mirror suspended above it. A nightstand stood to the left of the bed and a low coffee table sat in front of the couch that faced the window. A bookshelf, filled with books that were most likely in Russian, stood next to a door that lead to the bathroom. The room was an attempt to comfort the nations that were to be staying, as if to tell them that they were safe now that they were one with Mother Russia. Torys snorted uncharacteristically at the thought and shook his head.

_Like anybody would be comfortable being one with that lunatic. Especially after… _He couldn't finish the thought and he squeezed his eyes shut, curling his hands into fists as the sight of Estonia's, err _Eduard's_, body flashed through his mind. That was two months ago. He should've been able to get over it by now damn it!

_He's not a lunatic. He's a monster. That's all he is._ Torys thought grinding his teeth together. _I need to go see Latvia, ah Raivis, and see how he's doing._ He told himself. He sat up from his comfortable position on the bed and swung his feet to the ground, silently leaving his room and knocking on the door next to his. He heard a terrified squeak from inside and sighed, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark room, as the curtains were drawn and the light was off, but when his eyes did adjust he sighed sympathetically.

He could see Raivis, hiding behind the bed, blue eyes shining in the darkness as he peeped over it fearfully. Lithuania closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed, his footsteps muffled by the carpet. He slowly sunk to his knees next to the smaller country and looked over at him, green eyes meeting blue. Raivis whimpered gently and Torys could see that his small frame was shaking in the darkness. So he did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He reached out and tentatively hugged him. Raivis stiffened at first, but after a few moments seemed to relax and even lean into his embrace. After a few moments his shaking seemed to have dies down a bit and he pulled himself free, looking at Torys in relief.

"Th-th-thank you." He muttered. Torys only nodded and they sat in the darkness for a few moments more before Torys got to his feet and made to leave the room.

"W-w-wait." Raivis called after him. Torys turned around, green eyes shimmering through the darkness.

"Yes?" He asked. Raivis clutched at the sheets of the bed tightly and bit his lip.

"D-do you know h-how l-l-long we've b-been here?" He asked. Torys was silent for a moment before turning back to the door and stepping out.

"Two months." He responded. Then the door shut and Raivis was submerged in darkness yet again.

If he were to be honest he would say that the darkness was comforting. He had no idea why, perhaps because it hid him from the eyes of others or maybe because it hid others from him. Slowly he clambered onto the bed and burrowed under the covers, pulling them over his head and curling himself into a ball. Even though he could feel the air around him thicken with his own breath and knew that he would have to come back up for air soon he stayed under the covers, allowing the feeling of the heavy blankets to envelope him and provide him with what little comfort he could find. He stayed like this for hours, coming up for breath every few minutes only to delve back into the warmth of the covers.

His door suddenly swung open and he popped up from underneath the blankets, squinting in the light to be able to realize that one of the soldiers was standing in the doorway.

"Up. You have been ordered to report to the entrance hall with Torys immediately." The soldier barked. Raivis scrambled out of bed and scurried over to the soldier who promptly turned towards the door that lead to the other floors. He could see Torys standing by the door, apparently waiting. He stepped aside, allowing the officer to swipe the identification card that would unlock the door and they followed him down the stairwell that lead them to the first floor. Raivis stuck closely to Torys' side as they noticed that Russia was standing in the entry hall looking impatient. As soon as Russia saw the pair a childish smile appeared on his face and he chuckled.

"Ah, you're here. I just wanted to introduce you to somebody who has also become one with me. I am sure that you know him already, but I just wished for you to see who has joined me. That is good of me, da?" Russia asked. The two shaking Baltic's gave an obligatory yes and Russia nodded in approval. With a quick snap of his pale fingers, guards practically dragged in a stumbling, pale, fair haired man and forced him to stand next to Russia. He shied away from the larger country but Russia grabbed his arm harshly, forcing him to stand straight.

"Feliks!" Torys squeaked in terror. The blond slowly looked up, something incredibly uncharacteristic of him and sucked in breath through his teeth in pain at the movement. The constant sparkle that his green eyes held had been extinguished and he looked tired. More tired than Torys had ever seen him.

"O-oh. H-hey Liet." Feliks stuttered. He made a face at the sound of his voice and frowned. "Ugh. S-stuttering is like, t-totally not cool." He managed. Russia jabbed him sharply in the ribs.

"Do not speak." He ordered curtly. Feliks immediately shut up, clamping his mouth down in a thin line and casting his eyes to the floor. Russia turned his attention to the two Baltic countries that stood at the end of the hall. He looked bored if they were to be honest, violet eyes roaming and lazy. "He will be staying here until I see fit. I will send him back to Warsaw when I finish rebuilding. It _is_ part of Mother Russia now after all." Russia yawned. He roughly shoved Feliks towards Torys and Torys ran forward to grab his friend's arm before he could fall over.

"Take him to one of the rooms. The guards will bring a change of clothes and will call you down for dinner at seventeen thirty five. **(For Americans that's five thirty five.)**" Russia instructed. Turning his back to the countries he had taken as his own, Russia left the entrance hall and headed towards another private stairwell that lead to a separate part of the fifth floor than where the other countries were staying. Entering the large room he kicked off his boots and sat down on the large bed, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face into his hands. He exhaled, the tremor in it almost undetectable as he peered through his fingers to the phone that rested on the nightstand. He knew he needed to work. He needed to be making calls to check on military status. He needed to be organizing meetings with his high ranking officials about governing the lands. He needed to be on the front line, commanding his soldiers.

But he couldn't.

The stress of the battles were taking its toll on him. He was becoming thinner, despite eating as much as usual if not more. Even if he didn't want to admit it, it _hurt _when his soldiers died. No country liked war. Some liked the bloodlust, yes, but the war itself? No.

Russia gave an agitated growl and slammed his fist against the wall, violet eyes ablaze. He _hated_ them. He hated them all. Why cause pain on both sides with war when they could just surrender to him and have no pain at all?

_They do it because they hate me. To torture me at their own expense. Do they despise me so much that they would rather die than become one with me? _Russia asked himself. He growled again, a deep, guttural sound that came from his chest, before he punched the wall. Hard.

It took a minute or so, but he slowly withdrew his fist from the hole it had made in the wall. It wasn't like him to snap like that. Usually it would just vent out in a long series of 'kolkolkol's but not this time. Since when had he had so little control over his anger? He swore he had never done anything of the sort before. Maybe a death threat here and a particularly intimidating string of 'kolkolkol's there but never, _ever_ had he hit something out of anger.

Heaving a defeated sigh he stared down at his hand. His knuckled were bleeding and bruised, though they were healing up quickly and he felt the bone in his middle finger start to guide its way back to the right position so that the bones could start fusing again. He didn't bat an eye at the pain, it was nothing to him. Just a tiny pinprick in comparison to the things that he suffered at the hands of the Mongol hoards. Or the things that he's done to the other countries.

He remembered vividly the smoke rising from the city of Berlin and how terrified Germany's citizens were. He remembered his troops marching into the city and beating Germany's back, reaching the city center in only sixteen days.

He remembered pushing the gun into Germany's forehead.

He had desperately been trying to push the Soviet forces back with his troops, only to find that he had been backed into a dead end. Russia had slaughtered his troops in a flash. A swing of the pipe here, a snap of the neck there and a pull of the trigger had caused twenty men to fall to their knees on May second. Blood bubbled from the corner of Germany's mouth. A bullet had been lodged into his chest and another had found its way into his shoulder. Blood stained and matted blond hair and sky blue eyes glared defiantly at Russia and his troops. A grin had spread across Russia's face as he strode down the shallow alleyway towards the German. Germany held himself as tall as he could, the black swastika in a white circle against a crimson backdrop standing out prominently on his sleeve. There had been no discussion or speech between any of the soldiers or the nations in front of them.

Russia had lifted his gun and pressed it to Germany's forehead, a challenge displayed in his violet eyes and a smirk threatening to spread across thin lips. Germany had stood there, blue eyes showing exhaustion. In that moment, Germany had known that he couldn't win. Not like this. Not with the center of his power being attacked and destroyed so quickly. Germany's grip on his gun loosened and it clattered to the concrete as the two countries stared each other down.

One hand went behind his head. Then the other. Slowly, ever so slowly, Germany sank to his knees. Russia smirked as Germany cast his eyes to the unforgiving concrete below him and he motioned with his gun for Germany to turn around. Complying silently, Russia pulled handcuffs from his coat pocket and cuffed him, yanking him to his feet harshly and gripping him by his hair, snapping his neck back.

"You have lost Ludwig. It is time that you paid for your crimes." Russia had half sung, half whispered. Gripping his pipe he moved it over the German's neck and gripping its other end, he pressed against Germany's throat. Germany gasped for breath, the only sound he had made since he had been barking orders to his soldiers and soon he struggled for it desperately. Germany wheezed desperately for air, gripping the pipe with white knuckled hands but knowing better than to pull on it. Soon, his grip slackened, blue eyes rolled back in his head and his body fell limp, slumping against the larger man.

Russia grinned sickeningly at the sight and released his grip on Germany, letting his body crumple to the floor. Unlocking Germany's handcuffs and kicking him into semi consciousness, Russia turned away. His work here was done.

"Blow up these buildings. The German forces will be surrendering soon." Russia informed his troops. They all nodded stiffly and stepped back, creating a clear path for Russia to walk through before they followed him towards the city center. There was a resounding explosion from behind them and Russia giggled happily at the sound.

_I wonder how long it will take them to find him. Or for him to claw out. Either way, I'll find out when the rest of the Allies and I decide on his punishment. He'll have to be there then. _Russia had mused.

Russia shook his head at the memory and looked down at his hands, now curled into fists. Germany had deserved it. He had killed millions.

Slowly and hesitantly, he reached for the phone on the nightstand. He had some business to take care of.

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**A/N: HE'S ALIIIIIIIVVVVEEEEE! Yeah, I love him too much to kill him. But here's a little inside look on what's going on with Russia and you got to see how Lithuania and Latvia are doing. ^-^ Oh well... AND TWENTY TWO REVIEWS! OHMYGOSH THAT'S SO AMAZING I JUST CAN'T EVEN. Oh, and I got my first flame. I removed it but I would like to thank the person for pointing out that Russia possesses a childlike cruelty and would not be bashing peoples heads in. I'm glad somebody noticed that. Seriously. Anyways, Algebra is easier than I thought and I get high school credits for it even though I'm not in high school until the year after next. Wheeee! Anyways, see you next Saturday!**


	10. European Nations

"Greece there is no need to worry, we'll stop Russia's forces _before_ they reach you. We just need to focus on fighting Russia where he is instead of defending borders that haven't been reached mi amigos. That makes sense, no?" Spain asked leaning forward. The European Nations meeting was currently going on and the group of nations were gathered around a very expensive mahogany table at Germany's house. Spain was making an attempt to comfort Greece with talk about how they would all pitch in to help defend as they should have after the invasion of Poland. Romania and many of the other countries north of Greece had been taken over as of late, though many of them had surrendered as opposed to having their cities ravaged and destroyed. News about what had happened in Warsaw had spread like wildfire, stories of how the entire city was burned to the ground without mercy and how the ground was saturated with blood. How all of the government officials had been murdered in various ways. How Poland himself was nowhere to be found. At the moment, the countries bordering Russia's reign were Germany, Hungary, Austria, Slovakia and Italy. Slovenia and Croatia had already been invaded, bordering Italy to the west and Austria to the north while more troops headed south in order to invade Greece and Turkey. Voices buzzed through the room, carrying worry and fear of the oncoming forces. Japan's voice cut cleanly through the air like his katana when he spoke, though his voice was soft as ever and it silenced the room.

"I agree with Spain-san. We must fight together if we wish to defeat Russia." He responded from his guest seat between Germany and Italy. The Japanese man had been in Germany for over a week now, meeting with his ally about the war that raged just past the nations that bordered him. The two countries had been preparing plans with England and an Italian that was rather useless in the situation who, between sitting there bawling his eyes out and suggesting they all just surrender, slept ninety percent of the time.

Now, at the European Nations meeting, Germany, England and Japan were preparing themselves to deliver the proposition that they had come up with. England shuffled the papers before him nervously in tense anticipation, the sound ringing in his ears louder than the voices that fluttered around him. He, and every other country in the world, just wanted this war done and over with. He didn't want the inevitable carnage and destruction to reach him. He didn't want to see his people slaughtered and his soldiers die at the hands at the enemy. Then again, no country did. Russia had proven his strength and his capabilities over the past months and England shuddered, feeling as if an icy wind had brushed his skin. Goosebumps arose on his pale skin as the thought crossed his mind and he closed his eyes for a moment.

_That… That was just a warning, wasn't it? What the bloody hell has that bastard up his sleeve?_ England thought to himself. The thought caused him to tighten his grip on the papers in his hands, almost tearing them. That couldn't be possible. Destruction at that magnitude…

_But I did the same thing. _England thought. He was flooded with a bittersweet feeling mixed with a tad bit of nostalgia before clearing his head of those thoughts and the dark memories they associated themselves with. He could still hear the screams of villagers, the wailing of children and the roars and battle cries of men.

A feeling that he had long stashed away crawled up his spine, weaving itself into him in a pattern he was all too familiar with. He felt the urge to reach for the gun that wasn't in his boot and the sword that wasn't strapped to his belt. He wanted to-

_No_. he thought to himself. How could he return to that now? He shoved the feeling down, burying it before casting a look around the room. People were still arguing, nobody was paying attention to him. Germany glanced towards the Brit as if signaling that they were ready to present and England gave a near imperceptible nod.

Germany rose from his seat and loudly cleared his throat, immediately making the room fall quiet. Small whispers and side comments still polluted the air but Germany paid no mind to them.

"Spain has brought about a good point. Vun zhat England, Japan and I vould like to discuss vith you all." Germany announced. His booming voice echoed through the meeting hall and the side conversations immediately stopped. All eyes were on the Germanic nation. Germany cleared his throat yet again and motioned for England to join him and for Japan to stand. Japan did so quietly and England hurriedly stood from his seat and half walked half loped to the front of the room next to Germany.

"Err, yes. Spain has brought up a good point." England added. His eyes momentarily flitted to the Spanish country that was beaming at the acknowledgement. England waited for a moment before speaking again, his voice a bit unsteady. "We, the three of us, agreed that we need to focus our forces on keeping Russia's troops at bay instead of defending land that has yet to be reached." He started.

"Ve realized zhat it vould be harder for Russia to gain land if he had to face all of us instead of vun of us at a time. Zhis vay ve could put our currently defending troops to vork und could possible stop Russia's advances." Germany butted in taking over. "Ve, Japan, England, Italy and I," Germany cast an irritated look towards the dozy Italian that showed that the sleeping nation had little to nothing to do with the plan. "Have taken ze liberty to organize a strategy prior to zis meeting. Japan has agreed to help engineer and manufacture new military weapons and vehicles zhat may be more effective in combat. At ze next Vorld Summit ve intend to propose to America zhat Japan be allowed to possess nuclear weapons again and have an officially recognized military." Germany explained coolly. "Meanwhile, we have decided that…" Germany continued with his speech on the proposition and the things that it entailed, but in reality nobody was paying attention. They didn't even need to listen to what he said really. They wanted help and they were willing to give help. That's all there was to it. All of the legal things about weapon transportation, alliances, enemies and land could be set aside for a moment. It could all be written on paper for them to probably not read later.

Most nations stared blankly at Germany, nodding every once in a while to make it appear as if they were listening while others didn't even bother, just chatting under their breaths with the nearby countries. Italy had fallen asleep again, drool seeping into the paper of his notepad and making the ink run, blurring the quickly doodled pictures of pasta, pizza and wine. Germany had finished his speech and remained standing, allowing the surrounding nations to absorb what he had just said before England spoke up again.

"The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland motions that the European Nations concentrate as many military forces possible on the eastern advances of Russia without regards to territory or previous disputes ongoing or not." England momentarily glanced at France who seemed taken aback by the announcement as he had ignored it when Germany had been speaking. A leering grin smeared across France's face and the Brit fought the urge to deal him a blow to the nose that would surely disfigure his face and render him unconscious. "The privilege of doing so will not be abused and only applies to military forces. Civilians must abide by set laws." England finished before taking his seat. Silence rang loud and clear through the room and was interrupted only by the gentle gliding of pen on paper as Germany scribbled down England's motion.

"The Federal Republic of Germany seconds this motion." Germany's booming voice added. He glanced up at the faces of the surrounding nations and asked the question that decided whether or not they would fight together or fight alone.

"All that approve?" An awakened Italy, Romano, Austria, Hungary, France, UK, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, Spain, Ireland, Portugal, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Belgium, Cyprus and Malta.

"All that oppose?" Norway, Switzerland and Lichtenstein. Before Germany could ask them to state their case Hungary jumped up from her seat, glaring at them in accusation.

"Are you kidding me? You oppose the fact that we work together?" She asked in rage.

"I will not compromise my neutrality so that you can fight a war." Switzerland bit back.

"Fighting this war will save your ass you goddamn, stuck up, neutral, snob!" Hungary growled. Before anybody knew it the entire room had erupted into chaos once again. Hungary was about ready to pull out her frying pan looking downright murderous. Her face was red and her eyes fiery, the warrior spirit shooting through her veins and igniting them like gasoline. Before she knew it Hungary had pounced on Switzerland, slamming her skillet over his head. Switzerland gave an outraged roar and his hand twitched for his gun.

"Big bruder no!" Lichtenstein squeaked over the noise. Nations were cheering, some yelling for one or the other to win. Switzerland froze and relaxed, slowly pushing a still raging Hungary off of him and standing up. Hungary exhaled through her nose in an angry huff before returning her pan to the place she usually hid it and calmed herself down a bit.

"Switzerland, this plan will help us all in the long run. What about your sister? Lichtenstein will be safer this way. It'll at least slow Russia's advances." Hungary suggested softly. Switzerland stiffened at the mention of his sister and glanced over to her. Sparkling green eyes stared right back before looking down and a light blush spanned pale cheeks. Switzerland whipped back around to face Hungary, balling his hands into fists.

"Don't bring her into this." He growled.

"You know I have to Switzerland. It's the only way to get you to join us on this!" Hungary pointed out softly. "We're trying to keep each other safe right?"

"Quiet! The both of you!" Germany snapped. Hungary and Switzerland immediately silenced, sitting back down as the others returned to their seats.

"Right now ve need to figure out vhat ze hell ve are going going to do about zis var!" Germany thundered.

"So what are we going to do?! Make up your minds! Have World War two all over again?" Portugal yelled. "Who's going to go around killing people because of their religion, hmm? Is Russia going to follow in your footsteps?" The country hissed. Dead silence enveloped the room as the European Nations stared wide eyed at Portugal. Who was he to bring up such a subject? Before anybody could blink Germany was across the room, his hands knotted in the collar of Portugal's shirt and looking as if he were about to snap the small countries neck.

"Don't you _dare-_"Germany started. Suddenly small hands tugged at his bicep and he turned to see wide honey eyes staring at him.

"Ve! Germany! Let him go!" Italy squeaked. Germany momentarily tightened his grasp on Portugal's shirt before releasing the country whom was now shaking in fear and realizing the words that had come from his mouth. Germany turned his back to him to face Italy, his head bowed as if that would allow him to avoid the surprised gazes of the other countries.

The door was unexpectedly flung open and it slammed against the wall behind it, sure to leave a dent. Silver hair glimmered with the sunlight that streamed through the windows and red eyes glinted mischievously, an excited spark held within them.

"Kesesesesesese~ Bruder! America has joined ze party!" Prussia announced. He cackled his trademark laugh and leaned against the heavy door. Germany looked up to meet eyes with his brother, grateful for the distraction and strode briskly towards the door.

"He's late."

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**A/N: I know. Crappy chapter. _ Anyways, sorry I'm late, I had to see a friend off yesterday so I couldn't update. Imma miss her... Anyways, please review! They make my day and constructive criticism makes it even better. And by the way... I am not going to follow the stereotypical story line of Russia takes over, holds Baltic's captive, world teams up against him, Russia is defeated, Russia is ridiculed and banished, Russia is evil and everybody else is good. That is not even CLOSE. Anyways, see yall Saturday! Hopefully...**


	11. At Your Service

The heat bounced off the asphalt and painfully burned their skin as they stepped out of the shade the hangar offered. A neat inverted triangle of fighter jets stood proud on the runway and it looked like their pilots were unloading their gear, just now getting out of their planes. Hatches were flipped up as men and women climbed down from their jets and pulled open compartments to get duffel bags.

"Kesesesese~ looks like the pilots are here." Prussia cackled. There were shouts coming from a few pilots as the person who piloted the leading plane jumped from the very top of his and landed on his feet with a dull _thud_. The man started to approach them, still in the process of pulling off his mask and closing the air valve before unfastening the straps and pushing the mask up on his head.

"Oh hell, you came to meet me? I'm flattered." He chuckled. Sky blue eyes gleamed with excitement and happiness that matched the lopsided grin on his face. Mussed strawberry blond hair fell over his eyes, yet the troublesome cowlick still stuck up defiantly.

"Alfred what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" England asked in stunned disbelief. He stared at his former colony, not able to believe what confronted him. He'd seen him pilot before, back in World War Two but he honestly didn't expect him to be piloting at a time like this. Wasn't he risking a bit too much?

"I'm piloting. Duh." America snorted placing his helmet under his arm. "What is it old man? Your mind deteriorating already?" He snickered. England automatically went red, spluttering incoherently for a moment or so before snapping back.

"I'm afraid I wasn't aware that the word deteriorating was part of your vocabulary. I applaud you for finally gaining the vocabulary of a failing fourth year." England retorted sharply. America put a hand over his heart and rocked back on his heels comically.

"That hurt England. That hurt right here." America replied sarcastically. A lopsided grin worked its way onto his face and a loud, obnoxious, overly American laugh erupted from his throat as England huffed and crossed his arms.

"Shut up you bloody git. Do you… Do you intend to pilot for the entirety of this war? And what the bloody hell are you doing here? You haven't answered _any _of my calls for the past week! What was it, important meetings with the president?" England huffed. America smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, well I kinda threw a fit to make sure I was able to be out here on the front lines. I don't like not being a part of the action y'know? This is my way of saying that you have my full support. So…" America straightened his posture, drawing himself up to his full height and bringing his right hand to his brow in a salute. "Five star General Alfred F. Jones at your service." His crooked grin only broadened as he gave a sharp salute to the countries before him. Germany nodded and followed his example.

"Danke. Your support is welcomed." Germany responded curtly. America only nodded, his grin fading to a simple smile. Prussia peered past America towards the fighters and gave a long low whistle.

"So you fly these things America?" Prussia asked gesturing to the jets and America automatically brightened, nodding enthusiastically.

"Damn straight I do! Course, I haven't flown as a fighter since Vietnam and I'm still getting used to the new jets. Not to mention I kinda miss good ole' Birdie but you gotta admit, this thing is cool as _hell_!" America confirmed loudly.

"Honhonhon, well America there is always room for improvement non?" France asked waggling his eyebrows. It took America a moment to translate the words before laughing and nodding.

"Yeah, whatever Franny. And dude, learn English. It would make life a lot easier for the rest of us. Plus, I need to make sure that everybody gets settled properly. It's uh... Just north of here right? The military base?" America asked Germany. Germany nodded.

"Ja. I vill escort you." Germany confirmed. America waved him off playfully and shook his head, a grin having plastered itself on his face.

"Don't worry about it dude! Seriously, I can read a map. Even if it's in German." America chuckled happily. His blue eyes glimmered mischievously as he slung the military duffle bag over his shoulder. "Besides, the hero always finds his way! He chimed. The American's radiating excitement was almost contagious as he bounded away towards the rest of his squad, holding the duffle as if it weighed nothing, which to him it probably did. There was some brief chatter and commotion from the group of pilots before they headed to the back of the hangar where three military trucks waited for them idly.

"I'm not worried about him finding his way. I'm worried about him driving on the right side of the road." Germany muttered to himself. He was grateful nobody had heard him as he crossed his arms and watched the last of the squadron round the corner of the building.

"That boy really loves to fly doesn't he?" Austria asked pushing his glasses up on his nose and briefly straightening his tie. England sighed reminiscently and stared after America, his voice sounding pained and slightly dazed as if he were saying something he really did not want to say.

"The lad always dreamed of it, even as a colony. He would do nothing but watch the birds and talk about how he would find a way to fly with them one day, no matter how long it took, no matter how hard it would be. He promised that he would find a way." England mumbled. His green gaze was far off, focused on a spot of empty space far beyond the sight of any of the others. His bushy eyebrows were relaxed, suspended over his eyes in a relaxed manor. He wore a Mona Lisa smile, one that held wonder, questioning, memory and patience that had not been seen in the centuries after America had gained his independence. He was snapped out of his reverie when a new voice, softer than he non existent wind added to the statement, holding its own nostalgia.

"It's all he ever talked about when we were little. Now that he's achieved that dream I don't think he's giving it up any time soon." A near invisible nation stated. He could have been mistaken for America but upon closer examination it wasn't him. Softer jaw line, longer hair, violet eyes and a polar bear clutched close to his chest, it certainly wasn't America. Everybody stared at him, completely bewildered and dumbstruck as they tried to figure out who he was and why he looked so much like America. "I'm Canada..." He whispered clearing the fog. It clicked for most, though some were still confused as to who this Canadia guy was and why the hell he had a polar bear the size of his torso but nobody vocalized their questions France however, immediately recognized his former colony and enveloped him in a hug that would have crushed the Canadian if he hadn't been two or three inches taller than France. Canada squeaked in surprise and Kumajirou borderline roared in protest as he was squished between the two men.

"Mon petit Canadien, comment avez-vous été?(My little Canadian, how have you been?)" France exclaimed glad to see the nation he had raised for a period of time before he was taken by England.

"J'ai été bien Francis. Il est agréable de vous revoir.(I have been well Francis. It is nice to see you again.)" Canada greeted him. A light blush dusted his face and he tentatively hugged France back, his blush deepening as France pulled away and pecked both of his cheeks in proper greeting. Canada smiled nevertheless and gripped Kumajirou tighter to his chest.

"C'est bon! Maintenant, que faites-vous ici en Allemagne, puis-je demander?(That is good! Now, what are you doing here in Germany may I ask?)" France asked raising a trim blond eyebrow. Canada hesitated a moment and cast his eyes to his boots that he scuffed nervously against the ground before looking up again, violet eyes shimmering, a soft small and a voice that matched it, still the same whispery soft tone.

"Amérique et moi avons décidé d'aider ici en Europe sur le front de la guerre. J'ai apporté des troupes qui sont déjà à la base militaire Amérique va. (America and I have both decided to help out here in Europe on the war front. I brought troops that are already at the military base America is going to.)" He replied. France seemed taken aback momentarily, blinking shining blue eyes in surprise before his face split into a proud grin and started speaking in English.

"Well zhen mon petit Canadien. I would like to welcome you and your troops to Europe. The war front awaits."

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**A/N: N-n-no. No way. Thirty reviews. This story has thirty reviews. Oh. My. God. I just can't. Seriously guys, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou SO MUCH! Best birthday present (That was actually the Thursday before last chapter) EVER! I owe you guys a one-shot, a sneak peek or an extra long chapter for that. You guys deserve a longer and better chapter than this but the tactics, technologies and combat is gonna kick in real soon. Oh, and you can vote on my profile about the one-shot/sneak peak/extra long chapter thing and next update I'll tell what got the most votes and that'll probably be out the update after that or that Wednesday. Anyways, Grazie! Please review and constructive criticism is always highly appreciated and I cherish it more than anything else! And I'm still moving so I've been lacking internet... I'll be fully in by this Monday though so no worries! Danke!**

**Au revoir!**


	12. Stronger

The gentle thrumming of rain against the asphalt would have been lulling if not for the outrageous noise happening inside of the meeting hall.

Glaring flourescent lights shined down on the nations gathered around the table, screaming at the top of their lungs in a desperate attempt to be heard over the constantly escalating volume. Some of them, specifically France and England, were yelling at each other senselessly and were on the verge of knocking each other out with the nearest heavy object. Teeth were grinding, spit was flying and eyes glinted with barely suppressed rage and exasperated voices melted together into near incoherency, nothing more than a fly to a swarm. Even Italy was yelling, the usually wimpy, sleepy nation flustered beyond belief. He was bordering panic, his voice an octave or two higher than usual and tears building up and tears in his eyes. While they were arguing about which soldiers were going where and who would do what, Russia was just outside of his borders. He was right there. And god damn, he was terrified of the other nation before he started attacking the other stronger nations. What was he going to do? Was he going to have to rely on the others? On Germany again? But damn he didn't want to rely on Germany again! He wanted to be brave like everybody else! He wanted to be able to fight his own battles, no matter how much he hated war. He wanted to be strong like his European brothers. He didn't want to rely on anybody like he had all these past hundreds and hundreds of years! He wasn't quite sure what was coming out of his mouth, what he was spewing at the other nations either in bawling cries or terrified screams but he hated it. He hated being weak. His army needed to be stronger. He needed to be stronger.

Hours passed in that room, nations yelling, throttling, smacking, crying into the night. Darkness settled over the city of Berlin outside of that building but the turmoil inside of the building didn't cease until the first hours of the morning when the moon was still high in the sky. Nations had given up reasoning with each other, stalking out of the room shooting vicious glares at each other with pale complexions and bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. Italy sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve and rubbing his red, puffy eyes. He had cried much more than he should have at that meeting but he didn't like the screaming or yelling that happened at these meetings at all. He didn't like watching his allies turn rabid on each other, looking as if they were going to rip each others throats out at any moment if they so much as said one word out of line. And it was scary seeing all of the happier countries turn blood thirsty. Spain had a fire in his eyes he had never seen before when he and England were fighting. His green eyes had turned hard, emeralds darkened with rage over something Italy hadn't payed attention to. It took Romano standing between them to snap Spain out of it at the risk of accidentally hurting him. Italy was worried about what would have happened if it had escalated any higher. Would they have hurt each other? Italy decided not to think about it, quickly walking towards the room he and Romano were sharing, picking up his pace so that he didn't have to see any of the other nations that would surely start yelling.

"Italy." The voice was stern and familiar, yet it was soft and in his case, comforting. The auburn haired nation turned around, a small 've?' escaping him as he looked at Germany with slight apprehension. It wasn't as if Germany hadn't participated in the various shouting matches that had taken place.

"Yes commander?" Italy asked immediately turning to him and straightening. Germany sighed and took a few steps towards him, stopping a bit in front of him.

"You don't have to call me zhat anymore you know." Germany coughed as a light blush dusted his cheeks. Blue eyes averted themselves to the ground as Italy gave a small smile and nodded.

"Yes sir." He responded. It was hard to take him seriously, with how dozy he sounded and the thickness that still carried in his voice from crying. Germany nodded before turning away in the direction of his room.

"I expect you at training tomorrow morning, nine o'clock sharp. Don't be late." Germany declared giving his ally a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Yes sir!" Italy cried. Germany harumphed and started to walk away before Italy called after him again, a sudden idea popping up in his mind. "Wait! Germany!" He called.

"Was?" Germany asked, stopping mid stride. He still faced the hallway, his back still to Italy as the smaller nation bounded towards him and stopped at his side.

"Germany… Would you train me and my troops… To be better fighters? Please?" Italy asked. Germany was taken aback by this question. Italy was asking for more training than already given? He barely tolerated the ten laps he had to do, whining and crying the entire time until England was brought up and he took off like… Well, like an Italian.

"Was?" Was all Germany managed to ask again. He blinked down at Italy in shock and Italy looked up at him hopefully. The Italian was shaking like a leaf in the wind, afraid to be turned down or laughed at by his friend and told he couldn't handle it like he had so many times before by so many other people.

"Ve~ Would Germany please train me and my troops?" Italy squeaked again. Germany finally realized that Italy was being serious and pursed his lips thoughtfully. It would be time consuming to get him to a mildly more than weak state but it would be worth it. Probably.

"Ja. I will do that. Be prepared. Your training starts tomorrow." Germany replied sharply. Italy's face split into a grin and he cheered, throwing his arms around the German in a surprisingly tight hug.

"Thank you Germany! I won't let you down, I promise! I promise on all of my pasta!" Italy called as he bounded towards his room. Germany stared after him blankly, unsure of how to respond at the Italian's enthusiasm for something like training. Italy happily skipped through the halls to the room he and Romano shared and quickly unlocked the door, slipping into the room and closing it with a heavy clunking noise. Romano popped his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth and grunted, spitting the foam out into the sink.

"About time bastard. I was wondering where you were." Romano huffed as he rinsed his mouth out.

"Ve~ Don't worry! I was just asking Germany to train me!" Italy answered cheerfully as he bounced over to the bathroom. Romano froze, his hand suspended in the air between the faucet and himself as he was about to turn it off and he directed his attention to his little brother, his face rapidly turning red.

"WHAT?!" Romano yelled. Italy flinched and cowered in fear as his brother gaped at him in absolute disbelief.

"Ve~ Don't worry fratello, Germany's going to make me stronger!" Italy quickly defended himself.

"I FUCKING TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT YOU AROUND THAT FUCKING POTATO BASTARD YOU FUCKING MORON!" Romano thundered in absolute rage. Italy shrunk back, whimpering slightly at his brothers yelling. Hadn't he yelled enough for the night?

"But fratello, he'll make us stronger. That way we don't have to rely on him, just like you wanted." The younger of the two whimpered, backing away slowly and hanging his head at the thought of disappointing his big brother.

"YOU STUPID LITTLE- What?" Romano asked blinking in disbelief. Had he misheard his brother?

"I only wanted to make you happy fratello. I know that you don't like me relying on Germany all the time." Italy whispered tears on the edge of his voice. He sniffled softly and wiped his nose on the back of his arm as Romano crossed his arms and pushed past him, stalking over to the bed.

"Well asking that damn potato bastard sure as hell wouldn't have done it." Romano scoffed as he pulled the sheets back. Italy's bottom lip quivered slightly before he crawled into the other bed, peeling back the crisp sheets and snuggling underneath them in an attempt to keep warm. He knew it wasn't going to help without someone there like he was used to but he wanted to try anyways. Romano flicked off the lamp, sending the room into darkness and Italy squeaked, immediately pulling the covers over his head and curling in on himself out of fear. Yes, he was hundreds of years old and yes, he was absolutely terrified of the dark.

But he was going to prove everybody wrong. He wasn't a complete wimp. Well, maybe he was but he wouldn't be much longer! He inhaled deeply trying to calm his racing heart and exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut and urging himself to fall asleep. Why did America have to tell him all of those ghost stories? Slender man? The Rake? Seriously?! Sure, Germany had yelled at the American after he found Italy cowering in the corner of his office sobbing about how the tall man was going to get him and that he would be dead by morning. The memory of the story resurfaced and Italy almost outright cried at the thought of the creatures that America spoke of. The sheets constricted around him as he bundled himself tighter and tighter, trying to assure himself that nothing would be able to get him here. He wanted to climb into bed with his brother or run across the building to Germany!

Romano watched silently as Italy writhed underneath his sheets for a reason not entirely unknown to him. He knew part of it was the fact that he had a hard time sleeping alone. As for the other part, he had no idea what it could be with an imagination like his brothers. Romano sighed heavily through his nose and turned over so that he didn't have to see the mess his brother was making of the sheets but he still heard the tell tale rustling of fabric that signified his brother was still squirming about in fear. He grunted and chucked a pillow in his brothers direction.

"Shut up damn it!" Romano growled burying his head in his pillow. The rustling sounds stopped and complete silence settled over the room. To be honest it was almost disturbing and Romano shifted, trying to get comfortable. He didn't need to worry about his little brother who was probably scared out of his wits in the other bed. Did he? He gave an agitated huff, rolling over onto his back to stare at the blank white ceiling above him. He was tired, he was cranky(er than usual) and he really really just wanted to go to sleep. But what the hell was keeping him up?! Italy stirred in the other bed, obviously unable to keep still anymore and Romano groaned, sitting up and turning towards his brother.

"Get the hell into bed bastard." He grunted tiredly. Italy was immediately beside him, cuddling up into him like he was an oversized teddybear and 've'ing happily.

"Thank you fratello!" Italy whispered as Romano laid back down.

"Whatever bastard, just shut up and go to sleep." Romano replied sharply. More silence filled the room and Italy gave a great yawn, finally able to drift off to sleep.

"Ti voglio bene Lovino*." He muttered sleepily already half asleep. Romano was silent, unable to answer before he huffed in confusion and closed his eyes.

"Ti voglio bene di Feliciano*."

* * *

**AN:**

***Thank you Guest for correcting me on the difference between I love you between friends/family and the I love you between lovers.**

**I'M BACK BABY! I MISSED MY WIFI SOOOOO MUCH YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND! AND I MISSED THIS STORY! So I know I'm almost a month late *wince* BUT from here on out I've got wifi so no more worries unless something happens on the weekends. Kay? And Ti Amo is I Love You and Italian and Ti Amo Di is I love you to. I had to add in a little brotherly fluff. AND I LOVE THE NEW PAIRING FEATURE! LIKE, ADORE IT! Anyways, thanks for patiently waiting guys and remember, vote on the poll on my profile about what you want to see as a reward for hitting 25 NOW 36 reviews! Hope to see you soon! Ciao!**


	13. Traitor

"Guns ready!" Germany barked to his soldiers. Guns raised unitedly towards the line of targets on the other side of the field, barely visible through the sheets of rain and dense mist that surrounded them on all sides. It was like the enemy front, the crawling, whirling tendrils of white that crawled towards them no matter what they did to try and stop it. Gunshots rang throughout the valley and the birds retreated to the air, specks of black disappearing into the wet grey sky. A roar of thunder pierced the air, ringing in the ears of soldiers but they refused to let it faze them. The air was charged with electricity from the bolts of light that split the sky and Germany barked at them all to head back to the base. They had done their amount of training for the day and there was no need to stay out in these conditions longer than necessary. His soldiers headed for the barracks so that they could bathe before dinner, conversation slowly starting to bubble between them as the obedient silence that was instilled upon them in trading faded.

Germany was still curious as to why America asked him to fill in for training his troops today. It had been two weeks since he had arrived with his squadron and suddenly he was asking favors? Germany huffed and started to head towards the heavy duty truck he had taken to the base, ready to return to Berlin which was an hour and a half drive from here. The engine sputtered to life and the tires churned in the mud as he drove towards the main road. He was actually sort of glad America had asked him to train his troops for the day. He had nothing more to do than do more paperwork as the real effects of the war weren't setting in quite yet, and that would have left him to training Italy. The tiny Italian surely would have never survived running laps in this weather. In fact, he probably would have jumped on Germany's back the moment a roll of thunder split their ears and echoed through the sky and Germany would have pried him off of him, forced him to head inside and ate pasta for what was probably the twelfth time this week. Did that Italian never get tired of it? Germany asked himself as he drove along the empty road. His headlights barely gave him visibility past the first few metres and if anything it only made the fog glare a blinding white at him. He huffed in agitation and sat up straighter, guiding the car carefully through the swirling whites and grey's.

An hour and a half later he entered Berlin with a sigh of relief. The drive had given him more than enough time to think about the impending battles and strategies. More time than he wanted really. He needed to pull out of the reserves soon. He wasn't going to let the added soldiers of other nations deter him from fighting his own battles. His pride wouldn't allow it.

The blonds thoughts were interrupted by the sharp ringing of his phone, taking him off guard. He jumped slightly before he glanced at it quickly in case it was important. He almost always followed the rules, but there was a time for breaking them and a time where his brother was calling him was one of them.

"Ja? Was ist es Bruder? (Yes? What is it brother?)" He asked turning the phone on speaker. There was an outraged growl and Germany blinked in surprise. That certainly wasn't like Prussia.

"What is it? What is it?! I'll tell you what it is! Fucking stuffy has joined that bastard Russia that's what!" Prussia yelled into the phone.

"Was?!" Germany asked in surprise. He still managed to focus on the road but he still couldn't quite believe his ears.

"You heard me! Fucking Austria is a traitor! He announced that he was joining him like fave minutes ago!" Prussia growled. Germany felt shock ripple through his veins at the announcement and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles whitened, hidden by his thick black gloves, yet he could still feel it.

"We'll talk when I get back. I'm fifteen minutes away and until then, get Austria out of there." Germany ordered sternly.

"That's not a problem West." Prussia responded flatly. Germany could practically see his brother's crimson eyes boring into him as he spoke. "The coward already left."

"Gott…" Germany trailed off. He should have been prepared for this! He knew wars didn't happen like that, one person against an entire continent. He knew that even if they were Russia, they couldn't win like that. Nobody could blow through four nations that easily without help. Help… Germany was struck by a realization and almost lost control of the car. Help. From the inside.

"Preußen. I need you to call an emergency meeting of the Bundesrat! Now!" Germany barked through the phone.

"Alright bruder. But you'd better give me an explanation when you get back." Prussia sighed. The phone clicked off and Germany scowled out the window. He should have known. How could anybody think that everybody was going to go against one person? It made no sense! It was like when Italy joined the Allies… Germany winced at the memory, even though it was he who had told him it would be the best for him. He had comforted the Italian as he wailed about how sorry he was after he announced it to Germany after lunch one day. Italy had eventually calmed down and the next week he was gone. Away with the Allies.

Soon enough Germany arrived at the hotel the meetings were being held in. The Bundesrat meeting would take place in a few days if he knew his government well. Until then, he needed to prepare a speech.

And he needed to find the mole.

* * *

"Go away stupid tomato bastard! I've got work to do!" Romano yelled as he thrashed in the Spaniards arms. Spain just smiled, green eyes alight and squeezed him tighter around the waist, burying his face into the smaller mans neck.

"Awww, Roma you're so cute~" He sang softly. "You don't _have _to work. You can do it later right?" Spain asked cheerfully. Romano huffed and tried to punch the Spaniard but failed.

"No I fucking can't bastard! Don't you have anything else to do other than fucking hang around me damn it? Go play with those fucking friends of yours!" Romano yelled still struggling to wriggle out of Spain's grasp. Spain laughed and shook his head, brown curls tickling Romano's cheek.

"But Roma Prussia is meeting with Germany," Romano shuddered at the name and mumbled something under his breath about a stupid potato bastard. "And France is surely trying to fell up England." Spain finished. "So that leaves me with you Roma~" Romano's scowl deepened at the thought of him being Spain's last choice. But then again, he was always everybody's last choice... What difference did it make if he was Spain's?

"Go work or something bastard! Even I'm working and you know how much I fucking hate this shit damn it!" Romano yelled finally managing to break free of Spain's grip. Spain stared after Romano in dismay as the grouchy Italian marched away from him and into his hotel room, slamming the door behind him with finality. The lock clicked into place and Spain heard the sound of furniture being moved on the other side, probably to block the door and to make sure he stayed out. Spain's face dropped into a frown that felt completely unnatural on his features and turned to his room, which was right across the hall. Quickly slipping in his card key and turning the handle he walked into his room. The door locked automatically behind him as all the room doors did and he crashed onto his bed with a heavy sigh.

"Roma why won't you be with me? You're so cute~" Spain asked the empty air. The air offered no response and Spain sighed, sitting up and heading to the bathroom to splash some water on his face to clear his mind. The gurgle of water from the faucet pushed away his thoughts and the sharp sensation of cold water against his skin was enough to shock him out of whatever stupor had been caused by Romano's harsh way of saying he didn't want to see him at the moment. Spain grabbed a towel to dry his face and decided that a shower would do him good. He snorted at his masochism. All the shower would do was provide him more time to think about Romano, more to think about this war that he couldn't stop. He couldn't keep the Italian safe like he had all those years ago. He was grown now and chances were his country would fall to Russia in a matter of months. If only he had more to offer him. If only he could protect him. He had seen many wars in his centuries of existence. He'd seen everybody fight, he'd seen all their strengths and weaknesses and in the case of the Italian brothers they had few strengths and many weaknesses.

These thoughts swirled in the Spaniards head as he turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. He stood beside the shower, watching the steam rise and the mirror fog, blurring his reflection before the sight of himself disappeared completely behind the condensed water. Running a hand through messy brown curls he jumped into the shower and let the hot water pound into his skin and wet his hair, plastering it to the back of his neck and letting it hang into his eyes.

He had always hated war. More than anything. He hated fighting his friends, his former allies. He hated seeing once powerful empires crumble at the hands of others. He hated seeing his friends, his family get hurt, usually reduced to nothing more than a quivering, weak mess for up to years after their defeat and invasion. And after the story about the disappearance of Poland and the Baltic's he was even more terrified for the survival of the two Italian brothers. He was going to spend as much time with Romano as he could before he was attacked, no matter what he did and if he could help it, he would offer as many of his forces as he could to slow the advances of the oncoming troops.

He swore the steam was muddling his mind. He couldn't think as clearly as he wanted to and his body felt all to heavy. The shower had done the exact opposite of what he wanted it to do. He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and getting dressed before climbing into bed, despite it being only seventeen hundred hours** (That's 5 P.M. to Americans)**. It was always a good time for a siesta anyways and he hadn't taken any since he couldn't quite remember when. He yawned in exhaustion before nestling further into his bed in an attempt to get comfortable. He needed to get away from all these thoughts of war, of death and of the inevitable fear and terror that would strike people all over the world. He hoped that when he woke up Romano would be willing to hang around with him after he finished working. Until then, all he could do was dream about it and wish that the world wasn't so cruel. Before finally fading into sleep Spain gripped the cross that hung around his neck and pressed it against his lips.

_Please keep Roma safe. Please._

* * *

**AN: So we've got a bit of one sided Spamano fluff that toes the line between brotherly and romantic, Austria is a traitor and the world is about to spiral into chaos now that countries are joining up with Russia. The potential moles in each government now have to be weeded out and now we're on the train to oh-shit-its-about-to-get-real town. Hehehe~ And I am absolutely, entirely shocked to discover that WE HAVE REACHED FORTY REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL SO RIDICULOUSLY MUCH IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY! I would glomp you all right now if I could, but instead I'll send you internet muffins with your OTP on top. ^-^ So, I'm at a point where I'm going to do both a series of one shots/drabbles that I'll take requests for (Pairings that I'm comfortable with writing, brotherly fluff, FACE/any other type of family etc.) AND a chapter that's triple the length f a regular chapter (SIX THOUSAND WORDS). But until then, the first one to reach five votes is the one I'll do first. Next Saturday seems like a long time when writing and then I end up writing the chapter the day of or the day before. XD Oh well. Anyways, see ya next Saturday! Thanks to all reviewers, favoriters and followers! PLEASE REVIEW! THEY MAKE MY DAY!**


	14. A Solemn Realization

**AN: Alright guys, I'm tired of screwing around. I want to get to the real story so if you were looking for invasions and dramatic I-Can't-Believe-They-Lost stuff I'm sorry. I'll probably create a side story for all of that when I finish up this story. Yes, that side story will contain all the juicy little details that I'm cutting out right now. This chapter starts with at first a few various time skips. You honestly can't expect all the countries to be taken down in any less time with the new alliances and what not. Anyways, I apologize again. Don't worry though, what I'm about to do is so much better.**

**Two Months Later**

"Hungary has now fallen under Russian control."

**Three Months Later**

"Breaking news! Finland and Sweden have surrendered to Russian forces as of Monday and it is expected that Norway follow suit sometime soon."

**Two Months Later**

"Norway and Denmark have surrendered to Russia. The current fronts in Germany, Italy and Switzerland are the only thing keeping Russian forces from reaching the western half of Europe."

**Four Months Later**

"Italy and Switzerland are now under Russian control after many soldiers from throughout Europe and North America were killed and they were able to break through. People throughout the world are renaming Russia, and this sudden and dramatic expansion people are starting it to call it the New Soviet Empire."

**Eight Months Later**

"New Soviet forces have taken over Germany. Belgium and the Netherlands are expected to surrender."

**A Month Later**

"Belgium and the Netherlands have given in to the New Soviet offer to join them peacefully. France, Spain, Portugal, Ireland and the Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland are now the only European countries standing."

**Three Months Later**

"France, Spain, Ireland and Portugal have been taken over by the New Soviet Empire. The United Kingdom is now the only remaining European country." The newsman announced solemnly. His thick London accent ran circles around the heads of the ex nations and nations in the room and England turned the TV off angrily, the screen blinking off into black. Thick silence hung over the room, only pierced by the near inaudible breathing of the present people. Out of all the nations in Europe only two managed to escape their homes when they were taken over. Matthias and Ludwig were two who had been forced to run by their friends and family, constantly retreating through Europe until England was their final sanctuary.

"Scheiße. Wir erledigt. (Shit. We're done for.)" Ludwig growled in agitation as he ran a hand through his hair. A few blond strands fell from their slicked back place and into his face where he didn't bother pushing them back into place.

"I have no clue what you just said but I agree." Matthias groaned as he grabbed for the near empty glass of beer on the coffee table. He downed the last drops of it and rubbed his eyes tiredly as England scowled out the window into the bleak, rainy day.

"We might as well ask America if we can stay at his place now. It's not going to take him long to invade England." Ludwig warned. His tone was flat, lacking the usual bite to it that made people obey his orders. Ludwig was honestly at loss for what to do. After Berlin was invaded he knew what it felt like to be useless. And he never hated anything more. He wondered where his brother and Elizaveta were or if they were even still alive.

"Like fucking hell we will! I intend to fight until the bloody wanker gets tired of me and does something rash!" England snarled. His fist made contact with the wooden frame of the window and it groaned in protest, threatening to splinter under the force of his fist.

"You're stupid England. You'll never be able to win against him." Ludwig commented, a scowl working it's way onto his face. England rounded on him, green eyes gleaming in rage.

"I know damn well I can't win against him but to hell with me if I surrender!" England raged. Ludwig and Matthias fell silent as England stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him, making sure they both knew he had no intentions of speaking anymore. Both the Dane and the German remained uncharacteristically silent as they stared at their laps, the wall, empty space, anywhere but out the window that overlooked bleak grey skies and streets patrolled with fully armed military tanks, prepared for an invasion at any time. This war was a lost one and little did they know it would change the entire course of history.

* * *

"We are still missing the personifications of Germany and Denmark, Ludwig Beilschmidt and Matthias Kohler respectively. Intelligence says that they are hiding in London under the United Kingdoms personification Arthur Kirkland's protection." The soldier announced to his superior. Russia nodded slowly in acknowledgement before boredly looking past the guard and out the window where new sunflowers bloomed in the extensive gardens. Their golden yellow petals turned towards the sun that shined from the middle of the sky and Russia took a few moments to admire them before turning his attention back to the soldier.

"I see. England will be under our control soon enough, we will find them when we take London. Until then, we will make sure who we have are secured and adjust to their new circumstances."

Russia ordered in amusement. The other nations were trapped in their former capital cities under the watchful eye of many guards ensuring they don't escape. There were a few who had surrendered complete control to him and now went about their normal business, now as provinces and states as opposed to nations like they used to be.

He was glad some had adjusted to life when they became one with him. It was certainly easier for them all and most definitely made both him and his boss happy, which had been rare since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Russia promptly dismissed the soldier and sat back in his chair placed in front of a large, heavy oak desk. The war had been tiring and he was still growing thinner, deapite his eating habits. He had been eating more than usual and he assumed that it was because of the added population of the countries he had absorbed. Russia found himself disgusted with the thought that he might now be eating as much as America and promptly felt the urge to skip lunch, which would be in about an hour. He hated to think that he and that capitalist pig were remotely similar in any way and that only feuled his need to have the United States on his knees before him and complying to his policies, ones that he would call 'stupid fucking commie laws'. Even though he was no longer communist America held it against him and had ever since the end of the Cold War. The capitalist pig would be eating his words when he defeated him, and Russia craved the satisfaction and sight it would bring him to see his long time rival finally defeated at his very own hands. He would gladly keep him around as a reminder of his victory, the young nation was too rebellious to let out of sight and too strong for any mere man to deal with. Russia himself would have to keep an eye on the United States of America and he would definitely have to make sure he wasn't as out of line as he was at the world conferences. Not as much food, not as much talking, more quiet and less movement. Yes, that would certainly be nice.

Russia let his mind drift away from the topic of America and thought about who he had successfully conquered. He really didn't want to kill all of those people, certainly not, but they weren't taking his diplomatic offer so there really was no other way. Besides, his boss had ordered the slaughter, he couldn't disobey direct orders like that. Unfortunately, some of his former colleagues, now underlings, had become injured by his soldiers when they attempted to flee and when their own cities were attacked. Some of them had even fought back, killing a few of his soldiers leading to their very unfortunate demise that wouldn't have been possible had they still been nations. He did feel remorse and gave Sadik and Lars a proper burial. And poor Lili of course. She and Basch were being taken to where they would be staying and when his soldiers had poked her brother in the back with their guns to get him moving she started pleading for them to leave her big brother alone and when they turned their guns on her to try and get her to shut up she started crying. Finding her irritating they had shot and killed her. Basch understandably killed three of the five men present, the first of which the one who shot his sister but Russia didn't know much more than that besides the fact that Basch was now in a straitjacket in the basement of one of his banks. Russia had been mortified when he found out that Lili had been killed when there was no need. In the times he had encountered her when Basch wasn't steering her away from him he had found her to be a very sweet and pleasant girl. She didn't seem scared at him and he found that the conversation they had had made his day slightly better. He had made sure she got a proper funeral, buried in a beautiful valley in her country. If the man who had shot her had been alive he would have personally shot him for doing something so terrible.

_But what about the things your men do in war to the children? Is it acceptable then but unacceptable now?_ A tiny voice questioned. He hesitated at the thought, frowning. This was different wasn't it? No. It really wasn't. He had to give out orders to spare children next time they went out on an invasion. He couldn't let his men do something so terrible. His decision made him feel slightly better over his guilt caused by Lili's death and he relaxed, tilting his head back to stare at the high white ceilings. What else to think about? Ah, yes.

Gilbert and Elizaveta.

Both were back in their countries, Elizaveta in Hungary and Gilbert in Germany but naturally, both were causing a fair amount of trouble. Gilbert had attacked one of the guards, putting him in the hospital for a week and Elizaveta, ever the rebellious girl when push came to shove, had been constantly disrespectful, spitting and making snide remarks throughout her time there. Russia worried that he might have to personally take care of both issues. Dealing with Gilbert would be easy, Gilbert was already scared of him after World War II and it wouldn't take much more than a phone call and a threat to deal with him.

Elizaveta however, was another issue all together. She had no previous disciplinary encounters with him and he knew well enough she was a very brave girl, one who would rebel at the first chance she got and wouldn't show false respect to him. In fact, she would probably never show respect to him. If it became necessary that he'd have to provide discipline he would have to make sure that she feared him and that she wouldn't try anything that would put her in that situation again. He couldn't say he _enjoyed_ doing that, but he did what needed to be done and if making others fear him is what needed to be done then so be it.

Quickly glancing down at his watch, Russia pushed himself up from his desk chair and made for the door. It was time for the meeting with his boss and his sisters. And last he heard, China was offering a very powerful surprise.

* * *

**AN: Okay guys. That's that. We are now going on to phase two. I had a feeling phase one was getting too drawn out, we're already at fourteen chapters and we haven't seen any real action. But that's about to change. In the next few chapters's you will see *SPOILER* England's invasion and *_EVEN BIGGER__ SPOILER*_** **a few rescue missions. Shit's about to happen guys. I know I've said that before but those were just bumps in the road. Time to have fun~ Anyways, sorry for the ultra late update, school has been kicking my ass and I've been really busy. There is no garunteed schedule so expect updates to take 1-2 weeks. I'll really try for one week though, so it's good to hope for that! Farewell readers and all I have to say is... THANK YOU FOR ALL OF THE REVIEWS, FOLLOWS AND FAVORITES! I LOVE YOU GUYS! REMEMBER TO VOTE ON THE POLL ON MY PROFILE TO SEE IF YOU GET AN EXTRA LONG CHAPTER OR A SERIES OF DRABBLES FIRST~!**


	15. A Parisian Escape

"You know England's going to yell at us when we get back whether we're successful or not, right?" Canada asked into the radio as he fidgeted, causing the ammo on his belt to clatter.

America nodded on the other end as he shifted in his seat, a foolish grin smacked across his face. His wheat blond hair shined under the moonlight, illuminated to an almost ghostly white color. The moon was beautiful from up in the sky, a pale orb that hovered next to them above the grey clouds that offered them cover.

"Yeah but he can't get too pissed if we're successful! We'll be heroes bro!" America announced happily. Yes, this mission was risky. Yes, he was well aware England wouldn't approve of this. Yes, he was absolutely fucking crazy for wanting to do this. But someone had to get other nations out of that commie's hands didn't they?

That was why they snuck out at eleven at night with nothing but their clothes, a bulletproof vest under their jackets, a few guns apiece and enough ammunition to supply a small army. It was time to take action, even if it wasn't on a massive military level. They had their own people to worry about, and one of them was Francis. Based off of the information a spy has provided them, they knew exactly where all the nations were being kept, whether in their homelands or with Russia himself for one reason or another. The idea was originally proposed by Canada right after France had surrendered. America remembered his older brother throwing the door to his room open and saying something about saving Francis. Honestly, America had tuned out after saving Francis, his mind already locked on the idea of being a hero and helping out someone he cared about.

"If you say so Al…" Canada sighed. They spent the next ten minutes in silence, focused on the task of flying before the nose of America's plane tilted downwards and they began their descent. America had picked a small clearing to land, not too far from the city of Paris where Francis was being kept and they made their landing smoothly enough without an actual runway before getting out of their planes silently and creeping out to the main road.

"You've got what we need?" America whispered to his brother as he peered down the empty stretch of road. Even though there was nobody out here he didn't dare speak above a whisper in fears that the somebody who wasn't there might attack them.

"Yes." Canada responded quickly flashing the silver tools in his pocket. America grinned and started down the road. It would take them a few hours to get to Paris, and in that time they could only prep themselves for the gunfire that hopefully wouldn't have to take place. Canada watched his brother in confusion and in the loudest voice he could muster, called out to him.

"Uh, Al? Paris is this way." Canada called after his younger brother softly. America spun around on his heel and grinned sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah… I knew that!" He muttered as he started down the right way. Canada shook his head and followed after him, making sure his gun was loaded and ready for firing.

_We're coming Francis. We're coming._

* * *

Entering Paris was a lot easier than they expected.

Which naturally meant that they'd be going through absolute hell later.

The moon bathed the City of Love in a near angelic light, half of each building glowing under the pale light of the full moon and the other half submerged in the darkness of its shadow, waiting, thirsting for the moonlight that it's other side basked in proudly. The Eiffel Tower stood proudly against the indigo sky, lights illuminating its figure on the Parisian skyline. It was truly a breathtaking sight, a scene of beauty that made only enhanced the meaning of the City of Love but, there was something wrong.

The city was silent. Not the peaceful silence of the night when people slept deeply and the city fell asleep. No, this silence was dark, heavy, pressing almost. Things had changed and Canada felt it immediately upon stepping into the city.

There was no speech between the brothers as they progressed towards Francis's location in the center of the city. Check the corners, move down the street. The process was repeated until they came to the street that their target was located on and Canada peered around the corner, quickly whipping himself back around, hissing in disdain.

"There's nobody there." He claimed in aggravation. America looked at his older brother in confusion.

"Dude, isn't that a good thing?" America questioned as he stepped towards the 's hand shot out to grab the hem of his jacket and he gave his brother a warning look.

"No. This is too good to be true. Be careful." Canada muttered.

Through the crisp night air America and Canada crept towards the building and tried the doorknob. Unlocked. America and Canada shared a look of fear and confusion, before slowly opening the door with the toe of their boots.

The room was enveloped in darkness, long shadows cast on the walls from the stacks of boxes piled high throughout the room. At the very back of the room was a stairwell going up and a hallway stretching both ways. The only source of light was the moonlight that streamed through the window, giving the room such an eerie, abandoned feel both America and Canada shivered.

That was when the alarm went off.

"SHIT!" America yelled. The door slammed behind them and the sound of heavy footsteps pounding from upstairs thundered through the building. Ammo clicked into place and gums were raised for firing as men started to appear down the stairs, yelling in Russian before starting a rain of gunfire. America and Canada dove for cover behind one of the boxes and quickly slipped a radio into one ear and earplugs and both.

"So Mattie, what the fuck now?" America asked as he peered over the box at the men. The red light glaring from the ceiling gave off enough light for him to know that there were at least a dozen men and all of them were standard military armed.

"I... don't really have a plan." Canada admitted even more quietly than usual.

"What?! You gotta be kidding me bro." America asked in disbelief. His blue eyes widened in shock and Canada shrunk back even more, shaking his head and much to his surprise, America grinned like a maniac." I guess we'll just have to improvise then." Were his exact words before propping his gun on top of the boxes and firing into their ranks. Canada followed suit, moving towards the left of the box and taking out who he could. Shoot, aim, reload. It was a vicious cycle that left men dropping like flies and when the hallway was empty, they moved in.

"Right hallway, first door on the left." Canada said into the mic. America visibly nodded and kicked the door open, pressing himself against the wall to avoid the gunfire poking hole in the door across the hall. America and Canada both glanced into the room, taking a head count. Twenty plus. This was going to be fun. Sure, getting shot wouldn't exactly kill them, they were nations, but it would hurt like hell and the next day or whenever they got back one of their kids (Their states, provinces, territories and others) Would have called asking what the hell happened and why they were going through absolute hell last , to make things easier, America and Canada crouched to the ground, turned to look around the corner and fired.

The two sides exchanged bullets vigorously, a man occasionally dropping with a cry of pain before they faded out. Time passed, nobody had even bothered to check and when the two brothers were sure the coast was clear they entered the room, shutting and locking the door behind them.

"So they try guarding a guy with thirty something armed men but they don't lock doors?" America snorted. Canada shrugged and prodded one of the fallen soldiers with the tip of his boot.

"Well, they were either stupid or way to cocky for their own good. Kinda like you." Canada teased. America made a noise of protest and hit his brother on the shoulder with the butt of his gun and giving him an irritated look before scanning the room for any possible places Francis could be.

"Where the hell did they put him?" America asked gesturing around the room. Canada narrowed his eyes and walked over to one of the walls, knocking on it lightly. Solid. The next wall. Solid. The next one? Not completely.

Canada did some more knocking around on that wall before finding a place where it was completely hollow and Canada grinned, pushing the wall in.

It fell onto the hidden stairwell with a clatter and Canada and America shared an ecstatic grin. They couldn't be far now. They were so close to saving Francis, they wouldn't let _anything _stop them. Canada unhooked the flashlight on his belt, shining it down into the depths of darkness that the stairs led to and then on the walls, looking for a light switch of some sort. He found one, and flicking it on, he saw the stairs curving to the right in a spiral formation. There was a slight ruckus at the bottom and they were both delighted and surprised when a voice called out to them.

"What have you come for now, hmm? I already told you I wouldn't tell you anything about Angleterre, Amerique or mon petit cannadiene and do what you will but I will not answer you miserable swine!" An all too familiar voice called out. America and Canada grinned at each other wildly, eyes lit up like Christmas trees as they took the stairs three at a time in order to get to the bottom. When they reached the bottom they were quite shocked by what they saw. A bed was pushed up against the back wall with a table on the other side of the room. Untouched food sat on it and Francis sat (Surprisingly) fully clothed on his bed, glaring angrily at where the other wall.

"I already told you," Francis spat starting to turn to look at them. "I will not-" Francis froze as his blue eyes landed on them and quickly stood up, taking a tentative step towards them. "Non. No way." He breathed. America grinned and hoisted his gun onto his shoulder.

"Yes way Franny. We're getting your old as out of here." America announced with his trademark smile. Canada smiled softly, violet eyes alight with happiness and stepped towards Francis.

"Bonjour papa. Nous sommes venus pour vous sauver. (Hello papa. We have come to save you.)" He called softly. Francis was frozen and before anybody knew it he had Canada squeezed in a hug, face buried in the younger's hair.

"Mon petit cannadiene, je suis si heureux de vous voir! (My little Candian,Iam so gladto see you!)" Francis called. Canada laughed and hugged back, grateful that his father figure was unharmed for the most part. That was, until he saw the bruise blossoming across his right cheek. Canada frowned, brushing his hand over it and looked at Francis, purple eyes shining in concern.

"Papa? What did they do?" Canada asked. Francis was about to answer when the loud crashing sound of a door being kicked down echoed throughout the room.

"Guys, as much as I want to catch up and have this little reunion, we've got company!" America yelled. He promptly pulled a gun from his belt and tossed it to Francis before turning back to the stairwell with Canada.

"Francis stay behind us." Canada ordered staring up the stairwell with determination.

"We're going to have to run like hell."

* * *

**AN: SURPRISE! EARLY UPDATE GUYS! I was gonna update yesterday but it was Veterans Day and I felt it would be disrespectful considering this is about war and all. So, I'm going to work on my actions scenes, and I apologize if this chappie is crappy (HEY THAT RHYMED!) but I'll be working on it. And now it's a matter of getting out without being caught. And then there's England's wrath. Yeah, that'll totally be fun. Anyways, right now this story is at an average of 3.4 Reviews per Chapter** **and I know it's a lot to ask but I REALLY want to get that number to four. It would make my year~ Second of all OHMYFREAKINGODS 51 REVIEWS! THAT'S HALFWAY TO A HUNDRED! I am ssssoooooooooo grateful guys, you don't even understand! Anyways, thanks for reading! Love ya'll!**


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